by Jo Leigh
“Yeah, well…” She’d rehearsed this moment in her dreams so many times back then when she’d been so hurt. He’d said he was sorry and she’d proceeded to tell him what a low-life scumbag he was. He’d hurt her and so she’d wanted to hurt him. But now, with the regret swimming in his eyes, she couldn’t seem to find the words.
“I—I think I hear my cell phone ringing.” She turned and rushed back to the lounge chair, and snatched up her bag. Behind her, water splashed as Rance moved toward the edge of the pool.
“Yep, it’s my phone, all right.” Or it would have been if she’d left the thing turned on. “I really should get back inside where it’s quiet and return the call. It’s probably Calvin, or maybe Miss Geneva back home. Her radiator just won’t behave itself.” She grabbed her discarded wrap, snatched up her shoes and started around the pool just as water sloshed and Rance hauled himself onto the concrete.
She ignored the urge to look and picked up her steps. Not because she feared him coming after her. But because she feared flinging herself into his arms if he did. An urge she knew would be that much stronger if she chanced a glance behind her and saw him standing there dripping wet, his board shorts clinging to him like a second skin. She’d imagined what he’d looked like more than once after he’d climbed out of the lake all those years ago. Of course, she’d imagined years later, after the initial hurt had faded and she’d traded her young girl daydreams for a woman’s erotic fantasies.
Fantasies, mind you. But this was reality and it was much more complicated.
“I shouldn’t have turned you down.”
The admission echoed in her head and sent a burst of joy through her. Not satisfaction or a sense of justice. But joy. As in, she still cared. As in, she still felt for him.
She did.
But the emotion driving her now was pure lust. He’d worked her up on the lounge chair and she was in desperate need of a really good orgasm. It only stood to reason that she would be close to jumping his bones right now.
It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that he really and truly regretted rejecting her that night.
She ignored the strange flutter in her chest and concentrated on the way her nipples tingled and her thighs clenched with each step.
Because this day—twenty hours left and counting—was all about sex.
It wasn’t about whether or not she still liked Rance. She wasn’t a naive girl. She knew now what she’d been too young to understand then—they couldn’t have had a future together. He’d been a man hell-bent on running from home and she’d been a woman intent on having one. She wanted a happily ever after, and Rance was only interested in the next twenty-four hours. Even if he now wanted her, it was only in the physical sense. He didn’t share her hopes and dreams.
He didn’t love her.
He never had.
Relief washed through her when she made it several steps without him dogging her, along with a strange sense of disappointment.
She shook away the feeling. While she was very close to exploding from sexual frustration, she wasn’t crazy from it. Not yet.
“Meet me in the lobby in an hour for the next workshop,” he called out just as she rounded the far edge of the pool.
Excitement bubbled, along with joy. The same pure, unadulterated joy she’d felt just moments ago.
Ugh. So much for not yet. She was crazy, all right.
But she wasn’t stupid.
RANCE WATCHED DEANIE disappear around a large group of potted palms and mentally recited every Pro-Rodeo steer wrestling champion for the past twenty years.
He wasn’t sure why. He should have had alligator wrangling on the brain right now. But it only seemed fitting for him to think of steer wrestling when it came to Deanie. Partly because she reminded him of his past when he’d loved the sport, and partly because he itched to stomp after her, wrestle her down and take her then and there, the crowd gathered around the bar area be damned.
But he wouldn’t go that far. He would push her to the edge, but she had to jump over willingly. Because she wanted to. Because she wanted him.
He focused on the thought, walked over to the lounge chair and picked up his discarded shirt. He wiped the moisture from his eyes and scrubbed at his hair before hooking the soft cotton around his neck. He should have dried off, but at the moment, he needed the cool water drip-dropping down his hot, tight skin before he headed inside to meet Erica and see if she’d come up with a list of the island’s most romantic spots. If he intended to seduce Deanie, he needed something special for the next workshop. Different. Seductive.
His groin throbbed at the thought and he shook his head as he slid his feet into his flip-flops. Despite a thorough soaking in the pool, he was still worked up. Hot. Hard. Shaking, for Christ’s sake.
Why, he hadn’t been this desperate since…
An image rushed at him as he started for the hotel lobby. He remembered the two mile trek home once Deanie had left and he’d climbed from the lake that night. He’d been soaking wet and the night air had been chilly, but neither had been enough to cool the fire that had burned in his gut. He’d gone home, straight past his suitcases that were packed and sitting in the hallway, and into a cold shower. Then he’d crawled into bed and tried to sleep.
Instead, he’d tossed and turned and thought about her the rest of the night. And then he’d packed her memory away the next morning, along with the rest of his past, said goodbye to his brothers—his grandfather had been out riding fence and hadn’t been the least bit interested in seeing him off—and he’d left for the rest of his life.
Just as he would do tomorrow once he’d gotten Deanie out of his system and spent the lust raging inside him.
Oddly enough, he didn’t feel any more excited about the prospect now than he’d felt back then.
8
DEANIE STEPPED onto the crowded elevator and punched the button for the fourteenth floor. She wobbled toward the rear of the elevator—the best she could manage since her feet had launched a full-blown rebellion against the new high heels. She clutched the wrap around her shoulders with one hand and her bag in the other. Leaning back against the far wall, she tried to calm her pounding heart.
Not because of what Rance had said, she reminded herself for the umpteenth time. She was still so worked up and excited because she’d seen him dripping wet.
It was all just physical. About the sex.
The elevator stopped and she glanced to see that they’d reached the third floor. Several people got off and the remaining passengers shifted to give each other some breathing room. The doors slid shut and the elevator continued it’s trek upward.
Deanie ignored the hollow feel in her stomach that had nothing to do with the elevator car and everything to do with her encounter with Rance.
Her very close encounter.
She still couldn’t believe she’d gotten up close and personal with Rance, of all people. She’d dreamed of it so many times, built him up in her head to be some super lover that it was a wonder she hadn’t been disappointed. Everyone knew fantasy was always better than reality.
Not in this case.
The real Rance had been a thousand times better. The feel of his skin had been hotter. The touch of his hand more purposeful. His body had felt more muscular and overwhelmingly powerful pressed up against her. He’d smelled richer and more intoxicating. His voice had even sounded huskier and sexier and more sincere than she’d ever imagined when he’d said—
She derailed the last thought, shut her eyes and concentrated on picturing him wet.
Water dripped down his bare torso. Trickling through his dark chest hair. His skin glistening. His eyes gleaming with desire and that flash of regret—
Wait a second.
She rearranged her thoughts, bypassed the whole regret thing and forced her attention down the very vivid mental image she’d managed to conjure.
Mmm…He had great abs. Solid. Rippled. Bisected by a funnel of dark, silky hair that
disappeared into the waistband of his shorts.
Dinggg!
The elevator stopped again and Deanie glanced up to note that they’d reached the fifth floor. More people climbed out and a few climbed back on.
The doors slid closed, the elevator moved on and Deanie returned to her mental speculation.
She’d been at the waistband, following the line of his zipper down…
Dinggg!
They hit the eighth floor and the rest of the passengers stepped off. A man wearing a white fluffy robe and flip-flops stepped on.
Now where was she? Oh, yeah. She’d been tracing the zipper over a very impressive bulge. Her cheeks burned, but she forced her mind to continue, to imagine what lay beneath the material. She had no doubt that it would be a very substantial package.
Dinggg!
Definitely bigger than the package dangling right in front of her—
She blinked once, twice, but it didn’t disappear. She forced her gaze upward, but it was too late. The man turned and darted off the elevator before she could glimpse his face, the white robe trailing from his hand as he streaked buck-naked down the tenth floor hallway.
“COULD YOU TELL ME the man’s size?”
Deanie smoothed the edge of the gray T-shirt she’d pulled on, along with matching sweatpants, before rushing downstairs to the hotel security office to report the naked man incident.
“Well.” She nibbled on her bottom lip as she gave the question some serious thought. “I didn’t have a ruler, but I’d say he was maybe four of five inches.”
“Not his penis size, Miss Codge.” Mr. H., the head of security at Escapades, gave her an exasperated look. He was a large, muscular man—minus any visible hair—who looked like a cross between Aladdin’s genie and Mr. Clean. He wore Chinos and enough gold chains around his thick neck to decrease the national deficit by a nice chunk. “His build,” he continued. “Was he a small man? Medium? Large?”
“Oh. Um, of course.” Deanie’s cheeks burned and she shifted in the leather chair where she sat in front of a massive chrome and glass desk.
Windows lined one wall, giving a spectacular view of a lush garden area surrounded by a sparkling pond being fed by a massive waterfall. Small round tables covered with crisp white linens sat here and there amid the green foliage and colorful tropical flowers. Large, fat candles glittered from the center of each table. A rainbow of spotlights played across the sparkling water.
“I, um, didn’t really get an overall picture of him.”
“Because you were too busy staring at his penis,” the security manager said matter-of-factly, shifting forward, his large frame effectively blocking her view of The Falls, the one of a kind restaurant the cab driver had mentioned.
Deanie gave him her best back-off-buddy look. “I wouldn’t call it staring, at least not by choice. One minute I had my eyes closed and the next, the elevator buzzed. My eyes opened and there it was, hanging right in front of me. I couldn’t help but look.”
Yeah, right his gaze seemed to say. It took all of her control to keep her fingers from balling into a fist. She wasn’t ten years old anymore. She didn’t have to come up swinging to be taken seriously. She was all grown up. An ultra-femme woman in control of her own destiny.
Her fingers brushed the soft cotton edge of the sexless T-shirt. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t ultra-femme at the moment. But she was in control. And she wasn’t going to lose her cool and go postal on a man twice her size. Even one who was annoying as hell.
“Hanging.” He seemed to think before making several notes on his pad. “Meaning it wasn’t erect?”
“No. That is, I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “What difference does it make?”
“It helps us to know what we’re dealing with. Is this a harmless exhibitionist—someone who craves attention—or is this someone who gets sexually excited by showing off his goods?” He made a few more notes before tapping his pencil on the edge of the desk. His gaze met hers. “Do you remember anything else about the perpetrator? Other than the fact that he was flaccid?”
“I…” She conjured the image. “He was old,” she declared after a few thoughtful moments.
“How do you know?”
“He had gray hair.” She studied the mental picture still vivid in her head. “I guess it could be premature gray. My oldest brother had his first gray hair at twenty-two. He’s in his thirties and completely salt and pepper now.”
Mr. H. gave her an exasperated look. “But I thought you didn’t see the perpetrator’s face…” Understanding finally lit his expression and he grunted what sounded like “Oh.”
“And a saggy butt,” Deanie added. “I saw that part when he was jogging away. I guess that would mean he wasn’t prematurely gray. He had to be old.” She conjured the image again. “Then again, he could just be out of shape. That would bring us back to the premature gray conclusion.”
“Maybe.” The security guard made several more notes before leaning back in his chair and eyeing her for several moments. “You’re absolutely sure it was a male?” he finally asked. “There’s no chance that it could be a woman?”
“No.”
“You’re positive?”
“Of course. I saw…” It flashed in her mind again and her face burned that much hotter. “Well, you know what I saw.” She swallowed. “It was definitely a male. Maybe an old male, or just an out-of-shape male with premature gray. Either way, it was a man.”
He gave her a speculative glance before his attention dropped to the notepad. He flipped through several pages and shook his head. “I know you’re sure of what you saw, Miss Codge, but to be honest, it simply doesn’t fit with the other reports we’ve had today.”
“He’s done it before?”
“Not he. She. We’ve had three sightings involving a female perpetrator in the past two hours. An elderly woman with gray hair was spotted out by the pool. And again down on the beach.”
Deanie thought a second. “I’m sorry, but he was definitely a he. Unless it was a really good prosthetic. Then again, wouldn’t she have had breasts?” She shook her head. “I’m sure I would have noticed breasts.” Pretty sure. But he/she had caught her off guard. “It happened really fast.”
“These things always do.” He pushed to his feet and walked around the desk. “Thank you for coming in.” He shook her hand.
Deanie stood. “I wish I’d had more time. Not to look at his you-know-what,” she blurted. “To look at everything else.”
“We’ll be sure to notify you if we find him. Her. It.” He shook his head. “I hope this hasn’t ruined your vacation.”
“Actually, that took a bad turn long before the elevator incident.” The moment, in fact, that she’d spotted Rance McGraw on her flight out of San Antonio.
That’s what common sense told her.
Along with the advice that she should abandon the workshops with Rance and just bide her time. She only had eighteen hours until she boarded the plane for Eden. It wasn’t as if she was missing all that much. Only a few classes. She could easily borrow someone’s notes or ask for a handout. She didn’t really need Rance’s instruction.
Ah, but she wanted it and so she couldn’t shake the anxiety that gripped her because the clock was ticking, the minutes slipping away.
She picked up her steps as she left the security office and headed back up to her room to change for their meeting down in the lobby.
She’d just stepped off the elevator on her floor—all the while giving thanks that she’d avoided any naked men along the way—when she spotted Rance at the far end of the hallway.
He leaned against the wall that faced her door, his arms folded and his beat-up straw Resistol tipped low. He wore his usual flip-flops and a new pair of blue-and-white flower-print board shorts that hung low on his trim waist. A crisp white T-shirt hugged his shoulders and arms and created a stark contrast against his tanned skin. Her heart revved into overdrive and her body went on red alert.
She became instantly aware of the soft cotton that covered her torso and the plastic flip-flops that cushioned her sore feet.
Great. Friggin’ great.
What was wrong with her? She should have put on her new sundress and heels before going to the security office. And some makeup. And she definitely should have done something with her hair besides pulling it back into a ponytail.
But she’d been in a hurry to report the incident and so she hadn’t had time to even glance in the mirror, much less worry over her appearance. She’d pulled on the first thing she’d seen—the T-shirt and sweats she’d purchased during her rush of insecurity down in the gift shop—and had headed back downstairs.
Okay, so maybe she’d spotted the sundress first, but she’d been freaked out and in desperate need of something comfortable.
Familiar.
Her memory stirred and she saw herself standing on the sidelines after a Friday night football game. She’d been waiting for Rance to come off the field so that she could congratulate him on another win. She’d seen him and waved, but he hadn’t looked past the handful of cheerleaders—with their long legs and tiny waists and perky breasts—that lingered near the fifty yard line.
Deanie had been twelve then and not the least bit interested in having breasts, period, much less perky ones. The one and only training bra her father had bought for her itched like crazy and so she’d left it stuck in the back of the drawer and worn an undershirt instead.
And that’s why he noticed them and not you.
Where the clothes had made her feel oddly secure earlier, she now had the sudden urge to rip them off and burn them before it was too late.
Before he realizes you’re still the same old Deanie.
