G-Men: The Series

by ANDREA SMITH

  I gave him a saucy wink (which I never would have done if I wasn’t already feeling really, really buzzed) and swiveled back around to face the bar. Of course, my very astute vision allowed me to watch what was happening from behind in the bar mirror without them noticing.

  Blondie stood up, pushing her chair back abruptly from their table, banging it into the man sitting at the table next to them. She threw her linen napkin on her plate, grabbed her notebook and handbag, and then stomped off quickly.

  I watched closely in the mirror, trying to ascertain his reaction. There was none. None whatsoever. He sat there cool, calm and collected, and finished his drink as if her storming out of there meant nothing to him.

  Probably a player…

  Just then, the beeper I’d been given beeped and lit up like a Christmas tree. I collected my drink from the bar and walked over to the Maitre’ D, handing him the beeper.

  “Right this way,” he said, nodding for me to follow him. You can imagine my utter surprise when he pulled the chair out that Blondie had recently vacated, indicating for me to take my place across from “Gorgeous.” A fresh place setting had been delivered. All signs of the blonde had vanished.

  “Wait,” I sputtered. “This is a mistake. I need a table for one.”

  I looked across the table as this smokin’ hot man stood up, flashing his exquisite gray eyes at me, smiling slightly, reflecting a dimple.

  Oh. Wow.

  “If you’ll excuse my boldness, Miss. I made the request on your behalf, hoping that you might agree to have dinner with me this evening.”

  “I thought you had a dinner companion for the evening,” I replied, hearing an audible sigh from the now-growing-impatient Maître’ D behind me.

  “Plans change,” he replied with a smirk, tilting his lips. “Join me?”

  He was gorgeous, sexy and had to be in his early thirties, likely very worldly, too. What the hell. I lowered myself into the chair, nudging it closer to the table in an effort to shield my bare thighs from his bold gaze. He wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was looking. The Maitre’ D left, telling us our server would be with us shortly.

  “Gorgeous” took his seat across from me once I was situated. “My name’s E.J.,” he said in a rich, sensual voice. I released a sigh, thinking how his voice could make even initials sound sensual and slightly dangerous.

  Jesus, he even had a British accent.

  “You were given initials as a name?” I blurted, unthinkingly.

  “Not exactly,” he replied, giving me a dazzling smile. “It’s just what I go by for now, and you are—?”

  Oh shit. He wants my name and all he’s giving me are initials. Let’s see…

  “Nicole,” I replied, returning his smile and holding my hand across the table.

  If he can use initials, I’ll use my middle name.

  He took my hand in his and raised it slowly to his sensual mouth, brushing his full lips across my knuckles gently. I shivered at the feel of his touch. Wow!

  “Nicole—a beautiful name for an extremely beautiful woman,” he said softly, his eyes boring through me. He had thick, dark hair that he wore slightly longer than the current norm, yet I could tell his haircuts cost plenty. His piercing silver-toned eyes unnerved me. I pulled my hand back, clasping both of them in my lap.

  His elbows rested on the table, his hands clasped together, supporting his chin as he gazed across the table at me. His shirt was Armani. I imagined his whole wardrobe was couture. His nails were neatly manicured. No sign of a wedding ring or a tan line where one had been. Good sign.

  “So, why did Blondie run off?” I asked, wanting to break the silence.

  He laughed a deep, rich laugh and I liked the ways his eyes danced when he did.

  “Her name’s Lacee,” he explained. “I’m afraid you pissed her off.”

  “Me?” I asked incredulously. “What did I do?”

  “You were on the beach and then you came in here.”

  “So?”

  “She didn’t like the fact that I noticed you.”

  Our server interrupted us at that moment, handing out menus and asking for drink orders.

  “Just a sec,” I said, signaling the waiter to hold on for a quick minute. “Before I dine with you, I want to know if Blondie—Lacee—whoever the hell she is, happens to be your wife, fiancée, girlfriend, fuck-buddy, whatever. I don’t like playing the part of a protagonist in some type of drama you’ve got going.”

  E.J.’s face grew serious as he instructed the waiter to come back in a moment. He leaned in close; his eyes had darkened at my accusation. I could tell he was ready to clue me in.

  “Lacee’s my executive assistant. If she were my wife, fiancée, or girlfriend, I can promise you, Nicole, that I wouldn’t have sent the drink over, or invited you to have dinner with me. I don’t make it a habit of engaging in melodramatic games, I assure you. I’m unencumbered as far as relationships go at the moment. Are you clear on that?”

  He left out fuck-buddies…

  “So, if Lacee’s your executive assistant, why does she care who you notice at the beach or in a restaurant?”

  He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink before answering.

  “Let’s just say Lacee would like to be more than an executive assistant to me. I simply don’t reciprocate those feelings. It’s not going to happen.”

  “I see,” I replied, processing that bit of info.

  He is so doing her…

  E.J. motioned the waiter back to our table. “Are you ready to order?”

  “I think so,” I replied, my face hidden in back of the menu, so that he couldn’t see my smile.

  Surprisingly, having dinner with him turned out to be quite entertaining and comfortable once we got past the Lacee issue. E.J. mentioned something about owning a company that did various consulting and programming for global government entities. He didn’t elaborate, so I didn’t dig any deeper.

  “It’s my turn to grill you now. You know everything you need to know about me at the moment and I know nothing about you,” he said, his eyes studying me with obvious interest as we were having an after dinner liqueur.

  Oh God! What can I tell him that doesn’t make me sound so…collegiate?

  “Well, I’m from D.C. I’m finishing up my degree in International Marketing next semester and I’m here in Belize because I caught my boyfriend fucking a skank on his couch. That pretty much sums it up in a nutshell.” I giggled and threw back the rest of my second liqueur, loving the nice, warm buzz that was re-emerging since dinner.

  I saw E.J. frown slightly while he digested my one-paragraph’s worth of information. Maybe he thought my language was too brash. Or he thought I was getting drunk—which, of course, I was.

  I saw him signal for the waiter to bring the check.

  He thinks I’m fucking pathetic.

  “Are we leaving?” I asked with a slight slur.

  Face palm.

  “I think it’s time to get you safely back to your villa. I’ll walk you.”

  “No, really, I’m fine. It’s not necessary,” I argued.

  “I insist,” he said in a very no-nonsense tone, placing his hand on my elbow as he guided me through the restaurant towards the exit.

  Once outside, I realized there was no way in my current state I could navigate my way back to the villa in these heels. I stopped, leaning into E.J., and took my shoes off.

  “There—much better,” I said, slinging them over my other shoulder as I leaned into his strong body, breathing in the salt air and his musky, masculine scent. He had an arm wrapped around my shoulder as we walked toward the beach to my villa. The breeze off of the ocean whipped my hair back from my face. I felt the sand now under my bare feet and it was warm and moist. Suddenly, E.J. stopped and pulled me closely against him. I immediately dropped my shoes onto the sand and looked up into his face, trying to understand why we had stopped.

  “
Such beautiful hair,” he commented, taking several locks and rubbing them between his fingers. He dropped the locks, and moved his thumb to my face, gently grazing it back and forth against my cheekbone.

  He gazed into my eyes and I felt butterflies in my belly. I hadn’t felt butterflies in a really long time. The way he studied me at that moment made me feel as if he were debating something.

  I melted against him, raising my face upward to his, closing my eyes, wanting only to feel his full, sensual lips on my own. His lips captured mine, very gently at first, but as we continued, his tongue found mine and our kiss grew in passion. His tongue teased mine, his teeth nipped at my lower lip as I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck and molded my body to his. I felt his hands lower to my butt, gripping and aligning every inch of me to every inch of him. Every inch.

  I was on fire for this man and wasn’t sure why, aside from the obvious. I mean, he was sexy, single, gorgeous and in the perfect place at the perfect time—did I mention just how fucking sexy he was? I wanted him to fuck me—yes I did. Right here. Right now. On this beach. I wanted another man’s cock inside of me. I couldn’t explain my rationale at the moment, only that having another man fuck me would give me a sense of relief, knowing it wasn’t Darin who was the last one there, if that made sense. Hell, it made sense to me in my current state of mind and I was determined.

  I pulled back a bit and lowered my hand, cupping him while gently massaging his erection which seemed enormous. He stopped kissing me suddenly and pulled back.

  “What are you doing, Nicole?”

  Isn’t it obvious?

  “I—I just thought we might want to take this to my villa,” I stammered, confused by his reaction.

  “I see. Well, let’s find your villa, okay?”

  “Sure,” I said, stooping down to pick up my shoes from the beach, shaking the sand out of them. I smoothed my dress down, feeling my cheeks flush as he continued his relentless observation. “Follow me,” I said, heading down the beach towards the cluster of villas.

  When we reached mine, I fumbled for the key in my clutch. I was inexplicably nervous now, as if I had totally lost my buzz. I finally found the key and inserted it in the lock when I felt his hand gently on my arm. I turned to face him and saw an edge of humor in his expression.

  “Thanks for having dinner with me. I enjoyed this evening more than you know. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

  Seriously?

  “What? I thought…,” I couldn’t finish that thought. I was dumbfounded and a bit humiliated if I had read his apparent brush-off correctly.

  He pulled me close to him, capturing my hands in his, raising them up to his lips where he kissed them both.

  He leaned, his lips brushing my ear. “Baby,” he said in a rough whisper, “I want to fuck you in the worst way possible. What I don’t want is to be some revenge fuck of yours in order to get back at your cheating boyfriend, who you’ll most likely get back together with before you touch down in D.C. I’m not that guy, love. When I fuck you, there will be no doubt in your mind as to whom you’re with and why you’re with me, understand?”

  I swallowed nervously, nodding my head. He lowered my hands and cupped my chin, kissing my lips again softly and sweetly.

  “Get some rest.”

  And then he was gone.

  chapter 2

  I woke up the following morning to a grueling headache, cotton mouth, and nausea that had the room spinning. My parents were due in early this afternoon, and I needed to get my shit together before that. My mother would be grilling me on more details of the whole Darin thing, which caused me to dry heave again.

  I finally managed to pull it together and jump in the shower. I couldn’t shake the whole incident with E.J. the previous evening. Did I completely misread the guy? I know I was shit-faced, but still, I knew how it felt when our bodies were pressed together. I felt his hardness while we were kissing, there was no mistaking that. I couldn’t help the feeling of total rejection that seeped in now in the light of soberness. I couldn’t possibly deal with double rejection; first Darin, now E.J. Yeah, I knew it was not the same thing, but rejection in any form is still fucking rejection!

  After my shower, I dressed in shorts and a tank top. I ordered room service for breakfast and popped some Advil for my headache. I went to the exercise room on-site and worked out until sweat was pouring down my face and back.

  My mom called right before I was heading out with my poolside supplies to get some sun without sand. She let me know that she and Daddy had not been able to book a single villa at the resort. They were staying in one of the two-unit condos just down the beach from me. Truthfully, I was relieved. I loved my parents, but having them hovering over me while I was here was not going to help. In particular, it would definitely cramp my style if I wanted to hook up.

  I headed down to the Olympic-size pool that was just up from the beach. Luckily, this resort was not kid-friendly, so no worries about having screaming, whiney kids splashing and pissing in the pool. There were a scattering of people on chaise lounges and in the water. I located a chaise with a table next to it for the pool-side cocktails I’d be ordering later. (Hair of the dog and all that.)

  I got settled in the chaise, pulling off my beach cover-up so anyone who cared to feast their eyes on my new Agua Bendito Brazilian-cut monokini (which was almost entirely comprised of criss-cross strings and not much else) could do so. I had sprayed on sunscreen before putting it on at the villa. I dug my iPad out to read a steamy novel I’d downloaded, adjusting my sunglasses on my nose to look around and see if anyone interesting was pool-side.

  Un-friggin’-believable.

  Lacee was stretched out on a chaise right across the pool from me, in a hot pink string bikini that should have been illegal in at least forty-one states. She was on her back, her already-tanned skin glistening with oil, one leg propped up on the chaise; her light blond hair was pulled up in a perky ponytail. She had sunglasses on, which made it impossible to know if she had noticed me. Oh hell—who cares! I continued to glance her way, silently smirking at the way her boobs were spilling over the teeny-tiny triangle of material that barely covered anything!

  Uh oh!

  There was no doubt in my mind she was now glaring at me behind her shades. I quickly pulled my iPad up, blocking her view of my face at least. I tried my best to put her out of my mind as I started my book.

  Hmm—wonder where E.J. is right now? Maybe I should consider going blonde…

  After a very colorful argument with just my thoughts in general, I forced myself to re-read the words on the current page for the third time. I hadn’t read more than a few pages when I heard a chaise being scraped against the concrete surface surrounding the pool as it was moved right next to mine. I peered up from my iPad observing a young, well-built, blond guy getting settled into it.

  “Hi there. Hope you don’t mind me sitting next to you. It looks like you’re alone here, too. Thought you might enjoy some company. I’m Eli.” He pulled his T-shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the ground next to his chaise.

  I raised my sunglasses to get a better view of this friendly and totally ripped dude.

  “Not at all, Eli,” I said, providing him with a dazzling smile. “My name’s Nicole.”

  Might as well continue with the charade.

  “Nice to meet you, Nicole. I can tell you’re from the States. For a quick sec, I thought maybe you were from France or Spain. You’ve got that European look going on, you know?”

  “Really? You know, I was contemplating going blonde.”

  “Oh no,” he said quickly, “I think you’re gorgeous with your dark brown hair and sapphire-blue eyes. It’s my favorite combination.”

  “You’re too nice, Eli,” I cooed, flashing him another smile. I was checking out Lacee in my peripheral vision; she was still over there all by herself. I made sure I put a giggle out there for good measure. I saw her squirm in her chair, and
then she rolled over onto her belly.

  Eli and I chatted for a few more minutes. He was from Denver, Colorado and was actually going to be interviewing for a position with the resort the following day. He said winters in Denver were not his thing; he much preferred sand to snow. I filled him in on just enough, not mentioning the thing with Darin, only that I was meeting my parents here for winter break. He was a few years older than me. He’d stayed on in Colorado after he graduated from the University of Colorado several years back.

  “So, Nicole, are you going in the pool anytime soon?” Eli was watching me with his boyish grin going on strong.

  I glanced over at the gorgeous pool. “Well, I’m not sure. I think this suit might be ‘dry-clean only.’”

  “What?” he asked; his voice incredulous. “I think you’re full of shit. I think it’s time we find out if that suit can take being wet.”

  Before I knew what was happening, Eli took my iPad from me, and placed it on the table. He scooped me up into his strong, muscular arms and headed towards the pool. I was laughing and kicking in faux protest, making enough noise to draw Lacee’s attention, I’m sure.

  “Eli,” I squealed, “put me down. I don’t want to go in just yet! Pretty please?”

  “Too late, beautiful,” he replied, laughing. “You’re going in, baby!” He jumped into the pool with me still in his arms, shrieking and giggling as we both went under the water and sprang back up. Eli let go of me, laughing, and dared me to race him to the end of the pool.

  My sunglasses were still on and as I looked over at Lacee, I saw that E.J. was standing right there, next to her chaise. He had observed the whole thing with Eli and me; his expression was unreadable. Lacee’s not so much, as a slow smile graced her full, pouty lips.

  E.J. wasn’t dressed in pool garb. He was dressed casually in a pale blue polo, and cargo pants. He looked magnificent. I watched as he apparently instructed Lacee that she was done at the pool. She quickly gathered her towel, sandals and suntan oil, getting up from the chaise, where I heard E.J. instruct her in a brusque tone to put on her cover-up. He, apparently, was not happy with her. Again.