by Jo Leigh
Wanting her.
Her stomach flipped and she had a sudden vision of a moonlit hotel room. The white sheers ruffled with the island breeze as it blew through the open patio doors. Rance’s tall, tanned body sprawled across the white sheets of a king-size bed…
Her heart skipped a beat and she drew a deep, calming breath.
Okay, so Clay deserved to toss and turn a heck of a lot for this one. In fact, we’re talking major insomnia. With a few paranoid delusions thrown in.
She forced her gaze from Rance to the display of brochures just to her left. Her attention fixed on Madame Zombobwee’s House of Voodoo.
She reached for the colorful advertisement. Maybe she would pay the woman a visit this afternoon if she didn’t manage to get off Escapades and over to Camp E.D.E.N. A voodoo doll and a few well-placed pins and Clay would surely regret butting into her life.
Folding the brochure, she stuffed it into her purse and headed for the concierge desk. “I need a boat,” she told the young man wearing a starched white and blue floral shirt, creased khaki slacks and a nametag that read Alan At Your Service.
“I’m afraid all of the fishing charters left early this morning.”
“I don’t want to fish. I want a ride to a neighboring island. Camp E.D.E.N.”
“There’s a sightseeing tour that travels around the nearby islands, but I’m afraid that left early, as well. It’s an all day even with lunch and dinner. Not that they stop off at Eden. That’s a privately owned island.”
“I know. I’ve booked a course there. Orientation is this afternoon.” His gaze widened and a twinkle lit his eyes. “Aren’t there any private boats?” she asked before he could make some sort of cheesy comment. “For emergencies?”
His knowing gaze disappeared and concern drew his eyebrows tight. “What’s your emergency?”
I need to learn how to Shed My Inhibitions. “Never mind.” She glanced at the various pamphlets sitting on the desk. Her gaze zeroed in on one and an idea struck. “What about a Wave Runner?”
He smiled. “We have plenty of those. We rent them by the hour. Unfortunately, the hotel is full and demand is high, so they’re booked up a full day in advance. But you can add your name to the waiting list in case someone doesn’t show. Just see the reservations desk out by the North Pool.” He pointed to the rear of the lobby and a pair of glass doors.
Beyond, the white sand beach shimmered in the midday sunlight. Palm trees swayed with a faint breeze. Blue water stretched endlessly, the horizon dotted only by the distant spot that represented Camp E.D.E.N.
She was this close.
All she needed was a way to get there.
She gathered up her purse, ignored the urge to glance in Rance’s direction one last time, and headed through the lobby toward the rear of the hotel.
She thought for all of five minutes that Rance had given up following her. The sofa where he’d been sitting now held an elderly couple who sat side-by-side and held each other’s hand, their gazes full of adoration as they stared at one another.
A pang of longing shot through her. While she was fixated on self-improvement at the moment, it was really just the means to an end. She wanted her own happily ever after. She wanted to fall in love. Even more, she wanted to fall in love with a man who would love her back. Unfortunately Rance wasn’t even a contender.
Even so, she found herself looking for him as she left the lobby and made her way around the monstrous pool.
An up-beat salsa tune blared from the patio speakers. The pool practically overflowed with oil-slicked bodies. Waiters rushed here and there with trays of drinks. A string of paper hearts had been taped across the bar in honor of the following Saturday. A huge red and white balloon arch framed the far side of the pool where a band was scheduled to play a special Valentine’s dinner and dance the following day.
Her thoughts rushed back to a certain Valentine’s Day when she’d been ten and still desperately, openly infatuated with the best looking boy in town.
She’d spent an entire morning baking cookies, and fighting with her brothers who’d been scarfing them down as fast as she could pull them from the oven. She’d managed to salvage a baker’s dozen from the seventy-eight she’d made and pack them into a shoe box lined with wax paper. She’d waited until Rance had stepped off the school bus and then presented him with her box of goodies.
The next year she’d given him a homemade red velvet cake.
The year after that, heart-shaped cupcakes.
The year after that, the largest box of chocolates from the general store.
She’d been persistent, and he’d been nice, but it hadn’t made him see her as anything other than a friend.
He’d graduated and gone off to college and she hadn’t celebrated the holiday since. Sure, she’d had several boyfriends over the years, but she’d never actually been in a relationship when the fourteenth rolled around, and so she’d never had a real Valentine’s Day.
Deanie shook off the sudden depressing thought and stepped toward the grass hut that served as the registration desk.
She smiled at the young man who stood behind the counter. He was tall, tanned and blonde and wore the familiar blue floral print shirt and starched khakis. His name tag read Malcolm At Your Service.
“Malcolm, I need to rent a Wave Runner.”
The hair on the back of her neck prickled and she felt Rance’s presence even before she heard his voice.
“Make that two.” He came up behind her, so close that she felt the heat from his hard body.
“Sure,” the attendant said as he retrieved his clipboard. “I should have a pair available…” He studied the schedule on the clipboard. “Tomorrow evening,” he finally announced. He smiled. “Name?”
“I really need one sooner than that. Can you put me on the list if someone cancels?”
“Yes ma’am, but I seriously doubt we’ll have two cancellations at the same time. The Wave Runners are our most popular water sport right now since two of our dive boats are out of commission.”
“That’s okay,” Deanie told the young man. “We’re not together. He’s headed for some porcupine-wrestling competition tomorrow and I’m on my way to Camp E.D.E.N.” She gave the young man her name and tried to ignore the annoyed look on Rance’s face as she turned to head back into the lobby to fork over the money for her own room. She could have sworn she even heard him growl as she breezed by without so much as a “see you later.”
As if he wanted them to be together.
He didn’t.
He was here on behalf of her brother. He’d kissed her on behalf of her brother—to make her miss her plane and stop her from reaching Eden. He was stalking her—for the next twenty-four hours—on behalf of her brother.
He wasn’t acting of his own free will.
Thankfully.
Because if he had been the slightest bit sincere, Deanie would have been hard-pressed to remember the promise she’d made to herself that night at the river—namely that she would never, ever offer herself again to Rance McGraw.
No matter how much she wanted to jump his delectable body right now.
5
“TOO OLD.” The deep, familiar drawl slid into Deanie’s ears and her hand paused just shy of the panties hanging on the small lingerie rack in the hotel’s one and only clothing shop.
After registering for her own hotel room, she’d gone inside to pick up some things to see her through until tomorrow since she was obviously stuck for the next twenty-four hours. That, and she’d been desperate to steer clear of Rance.
It seemed, however, that he wasn’t like her older brothers who would rather cut off an arm than go shopping.
She felt the heat of his body at her back. His scent—prime male and fresh soap and danger with a capital D—filled her head. Her heart stalled and her tummy tingled.
“Excuse me?” she managed to say.
“If you’re serious about this whole inner vixen thing, I can tell you she wou
ldn’t want you to wear those.” He indicated the white cotton briefs she’d been about to pick up. “Why don’t you try that little black number right there.”
“I can’t wear black underwear with this.” She held up the pale floral print sundress she’d just picked out.
“You’re right. You should just go natural.”
The comment stirred a fantasy of Rance sitting next to her on the plane as they both headed for Camp E.D.E.N., his hand on her knee, sliding beneath the hem of the new sundress, up the inside of her thigh to the very naked heart of her…
Heat zigzagged through her body. Her nipples tingled and her thighs clenched. She stiffened.
Reality check. She wasn’t supposed to react to him. She’d promised herself not to react to him. Her days of lusting after Rance McGraw were completely over.
O-V-E-R.
Even if she had fallen from grace in the airport storage closet. That had been a cold, calculated move on his part to mess up her plans. Besides, she hadn’t initiated the kiss. He had.
Which meant she hadn’t broken her promise to herself.
She frowned at him. “Don’t you have some shopping of your own to do?” Without waiting for a reply, she turned and moved a few steps away toward a stack of T-shirts.
“I though I’d help you out.” He shook his head at a T-shirt she picked up and reached for a skimpy tank top. “If you want sexy, this is the way to go.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I can manage fine on my own.” She ignored the tank top and busied herself reaching for a cap-sleeved white tee, the words Island Princess spelled out in pink rhinestones.
“Maybe so, but I figure I owe you. You’re missing today’s workshops because of me.”
“Which was your goal in the first place. So why the sudden touch of guilt?”
“I said I would keep an eye on you and keep you out of trouble. I didn’t say I would stop you.”
“So you didn’t purposely try to make me miss my flight?”
“Trust me. That wasn’t what I was thinking when I kissed you.”
“It was just a convenient by-product.” When he didn’t deny the statement, she added, “So helping me pick out clothes will ease your conscience?”
“No. Giving you sex lessons will do that.” When she simply stared at him, he added, “Just because you’re missing the first day doesn’t mean you have to miss today’s workshops.” His gaze caught and held hers. “I can teach you everything you need to know.”
I’m not interested. Not anymore. Not ever again. That’s what she wanted to say. But the words couldn’t seem to make it past her heart which had jumped into her throat at the prospect of being Rance’s student.
Not that she was about to say “yes” either.
She wanted a real education with reliable, step-by-step instruction in everything from Shedding Your Inhibitions and The Power Of Touching to Getting Into The E-Zone and Using Your Environment. While she had to give Rance his due—he was hot, hunky and undoubtedly experienced—he wasn’t a professional like Drill Sergeant Meryl and his Ph.D. wife, Dr. Linda.
With Rance, there would be no no-nonsense lectures or educational films. No actual textbook. No class notes.
Just Rance smiling down at her, his large, tanned hand covering hers, guiding her over her own body in hit and miss until they’d discovered every vital pleasure point…
Okay, so he had screwed up her plans. Royally.
She was starting a brand-new job in two weeks, which meant she wouldn’t be getting any time off for at least a year. Forget registering for Camp E.D.E.N.’s next session and making up the workshops she’d missed. The only time she had to get in touch with her sexuality was right now. Right here.
With him.
But it was more than timing that chipped away at her resolve and urged her to say yes. As much as Deanie wanted to deny her attraction to him, she couldn’t. Even after all these years, she still wanted him. More so now because she was all grown up. Forget daydreaming about his kisses. She wanted to feel him over her, inside of her, surrounding her.
This was it. Her chance. A once in a lifetime chance. Her dream come true. The dream she’d denied herself since that painful moment when she’d offered herself to him and he’d turned her down.
Never again, she’d promised herself.
But she wasn’t the one offering. He was.
It was Rance who waited for her answer. Rance who wondered what she was thinking. Rance who risked his pride should she give in to the need for vengeance that burned deep inside her and refuse him.
But greater than the need for revenge was her need for him. To touch him. To taste him. To feel him.
She had twenty-four hours before they went their separate ways again. Only this time, Deanie wouldn’t be left with fantasies to warm her nights. She would have bona fide memories.
And some much-needed knowledge when it came to sex.
“I guess it really is the least you can do,” she told him. If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn she saw relief flash in his gaze.
But then he smiled, his eyes twinkled, and he was the old Rance again. Full of self-confidence and sex appeal, and not the least bit worried about either.
“So how do we do this?” she asked him.
“That’s what I’m going to teach you, Teeny.” He gave her a quick kiss on the lips and winked. “Meet me at the main pool in a half hour.”
“The pool? But wouldn’t your hotel room be more appropriate…” Her words faded as he disappeared into the main lobby.
O-kay.
Maybe he wanted to go for a swim first. Get his heart pumping before he did the actual deed. One of her old boyfriends, Earl Connally, had liked to watch NASCAR before they got up close and personal because he said it really got his adrenaline pumping.
Deanie couldn’t really picture Rance glued to a television set, a beer in one hand and a Jimmie Johnson pennant in the other, but what did she know about men?
Very little.
She had exactly four ex-boyfriends. Earl the lube guy from the local Oil Express. Darnell who’d worked at the auto parts store. Bart the physical education teacher at Romeo Junior High. And Harwin the brake specialist at Big Daddy’s. They’d all been nice guys—except for Harwin—who hadn’t been any more experienced when it came to sex than Deanie herself.
And so all of her past encounters hadn’t been anywhere close to the hot, spicy stuff of an erotica novel. In fact, she would have to qualify them as more fitting for an inspirational—Deanie had spent most of her time praying for things to hurry up and be over.
The old Deanie, that is.
She was the new and improved version now. A sexually confident, experienced, one hundred percent bona fide woman.
Or she soon would be once she started her training and reached out to her inner vixen.
She spent the next ten minutes choosing a swimsuit and wrap to go with her sundress. And new sandals that were featured in the front display case. They were a pair of barely-there two-inch heels with tiny bronze straps that crisscrossed at the toes and wrapped around the ankles.
Her toes curled at the prospect. The old Deanie wouldn’t be caught dead in anything but her work boots or a pair of sneakers. Then again, the old Deanie wouldn’t have purchased a leopard print bikini—also from the display case—that begged for man-killer shoes.
The whole get-up screamed Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition and was just the sort of thing somebody like Savannah Sierra Ellington would wear.
Deanie gathered her purchases and headed for the cash register. As she passed a ring of T-shirts and sweat pants, insecurity welled inside her and she found herself reaching out. It wasn’t like she was going to wear the dreaded things. Not out in public. But if she wanted to relax in her room, there was certainly nothing wrong with being comfortable.
She grabbed her size and kept walking. When she reached the lingerie rack, she paused for an indecisive moment before adding the skimpy black thong to he
r pile.
Hey, Rance was the teacher.
For the next twenty-four hours, that is.
“SO HOW DO WE DO THIS?”
Deanie’s soft, sweet voice echoed through Rance’s head and followed him out into the lobby.
His heart pounded and his muscles bunched and his breaths came quicker. For a man who’d just made a touchdown and nailed the first quarter, he didn’t feel nearly the relief or satisfaction he’d expected. Instead, he felt wired, nervous, anxious. For more.
For her.
At the same time, he couldn’t shake the niggle of guilt that sat in his gut. After all, he’d just offered sex lessons to his best friend’s baby sister. Clay would surely go ballistic.
At the same time, the baby sister had turned into one hell of a woman. A woman determined to beef up her sexual arsenal, with or without his help.
Rance frowned and his determination grew. If Deanie was dead set on getting an education in sex, he intended to be the one to give it to her. Better him than some stranger. Even Clay would understand that.
At least Rance hoped he would.
“Hey, Mr. McGraw! Wait up!”
Rance turned at the sound of the familiar voice.
Erica hurried after him. She wore the standard hotel staff fare with her black slacks and crisp white blouse. Only the three extra studs in her right ear hinted that she might be more daredevil than manager-in-training.
“I called my folks just after you checked in and my dad all but flipped when I told him that you were here. He followed you back when you were playing pro ball with the Cowboys. He never missed a game.”
“Tell him I appreciate that.”
“Actually, I was hoping you could tell him.” She gave him a pleading look. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind giving me an autograph.” She pulled out an Extreme Dream T-shirt and a black Sharpie, and handed him both.
“You have a lot of these lying around?” he asked as she motioned him over to a nearby sitting area.
“Are you kidding?” She sat down and reached for one of the travel magazines scattered across the glass coffee table. “They’re the total shit with everybody who’s anybody. Surfers, wakers, skiers—you name it. I ordered this one online for my dad’s birthday—he’s always been a big fan. The autograph will make it that much more special.” She handed the magazine to Rance who sank down into a nearby chair.
