Sex Becomes Her

by Regina Cole

“My fault,” Chandler said, smiling easily as he steadied her. “I’m just standing in the way.”

  Firmly tucking his doubts in the back of his mind, Chandler started toward the table nearest the patio doors. Eliza was seated there, the corners of her full lips drawn down just a touch. She toyed with a hibiscus that had either fallen or been plucked from the table arrangement.

  She was beautiful, and she was into him.

  Fuck his doubts. And Greg’s half-baked warnings. He was going to spend the next couple of hours getting to know this beautiful woman and apologizing for the misunderstandings they’d had earlier. And then?

  Well, then they’d see where the night went. He wasn’t arrogant enough to think this was a sure thing. But he’d do his best to make sure the evening ended where they both wanted it to.

  “Sorry about that,” Chandler said smoothly as he sat in the seat next to Eliza. “Wedding jitters.”

  Without looking up from the delicate flower in her hands, Eliza answered, “Gregory doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be nervous at a wedding.”

  “Normally you’d be right. But this is his first wedding. That can shake a guy.” That nagging feeling came back, a tickling at the base of Chandler’s brain that begged him to look further into his cousin’s odd behavior. Something else was there, something more than cold feet. He ignored it.

  After greeting the elderly couple who sank down beside them, Chandler turned his attention back to Eliza. “So, do you have someone special back home?”

  Her alarmed gaze flew up at him and the flower dropped to the table. “Why would you ask that?”

  He kept his voice smooth and even to calm her. “Because I’m interested in you. And I don’t make a habit of chasing women who are attached.”

  His reply evidently stunned her, because she stayed silent for several moments. Eventually, she stammered out an, “Oh.”

  A waiter appeared by their table and began placing salads down in front of them. Chandler busied himself spreading his napkin over his knee. She needed time. He’d certainly given her some food for thought, and with the way she’d been so skittish earlier, he needed to be patient with her.

  Patience he could handle. When the reward promised to be as sweet as the one flicking blue cheese out of the salad next to him, he could afford to play it slow.

  Eliza picked at her salad, wondering what in the hell she was going to do now. It was easy enough to imagine catching Chandler and having a crazy vacation hookup in the fantasy realm, but now that he was clearly and obviously interested? Somehow his putting it into words made it much too real. And the real was intimidating her.

  The buzz of laughter and conversation around her made her even more self-conscious. She looked like a fool dressed in this way-too-revealing gown. Why did they have to put moldy cheese on her salad? Was she even using the right fork?

  “You must not have heard me. I said, why can’t they just put normal cheese on the salad?”

  Eliza blinked and looked to her left, where the friendly voice was coming from. A round-faced, smiling woman was there. She looked young, probably younger than she really was thanks to her rosy, apple-shaped cheeks. Her dress didn’t fit quite right, stretching over the shape of her arms like it was a size too small in the sleeves. A small mound of blue cheese was growing on her bread plate, just like Eliza’s.

  “I’m Stacey, Bree’s cousin.”

  Eliza smiled, thankful to have someone to talk to other than Chandler. He was making her insides turn too many flips to be comfortable. “I’m Eliza, Bree’s friend. Bridesmaid.”

  Stacey rolled her eyes as she flicked a large crumble of blue cheese off her mound of spinach and tomatoes. “Me too. Well, maid of honor. Even though I begged to get out of it. Bree is merciless.”

  “She can be,” Eliza agreed with a smile.

  “It wouldn’t be so bad if there was some leeway in the dresses. But spaghetti straps? With these arms?” Stacey poked the flesh of her upper arm with a disgusted wrinkle of her nose. “A girl can’t even get a pity shawl?”

  “I’m sorry,” Eliza said lamely. “For what it’s worth, I think the color will look better on you than it does me. That pale blue will look really good with your strawberry-blond coloring.”

  “I think anything would look gorgeous on you.” Stacey smiled. “I don’t think I was your size even when I was in junior high. Bree definitely got the more genetically gifted side of the family tree.”

  Stacey nodded toward the table in the center of the room, and a twinge of sympathy struck Eliza. Bree’s family was seated there, her father looking like a silver-haired Hollywood leading man, her brother just as handsome, and her mother a slightly older, but still ridiculously attractive, version of Sabrina. Gregory’s family members looked sallow and, well, bland next to the striking blondeness of their counterparts.

  A burst of laughter from behind Eliza turned her attention back to Chandler. He wiped his mouth with his napkin while the older woman beside him still chortled.

  “My goodness, we’ve strangled him, Leonard.”

  “No, no, it’s okay,” Chandler said, red-faced as he took a sip of water. “Just surprised me, that’s all.”

  “So you aren’t seeing the young lady beside you then? Leonard might be interested.” The old woman winked Eliza’s way.

  “Erm—” Eliza wanted to swallow her tongue. “Well, see, I—”

  “We’re in negotiations.” Chandler’s statement drew an “ooh” from the woman beside him, and the erstwhile Leonard, who had the grace to look a little embarrassed at his companion.

  Eliza didn’t know what else to say after that, so she stuffed a bite of salad into her mouth, wincing when a crumb of blue cheese hit her tongue. She chewed stalwartly anyway. This was awkward, but it wasn’t as awkward as being cornered in the pharmacy and called ugly names. This she could handle, weird as it was.

  The older woman, obviously one of Sabrina’s dad’s friends, eventually fell into conversation with Leonard and the man seated on the other side of him, and Stacey started talking to the guy on her left, so Eliza and Chandler were finally sort of alone again.

  What should she say? Where did they go from there? Maybe she should make it clear that she was just looking for some fun on her trip, nothing long-term. Or maybe if she did, he’d presume that she was trying to save face because she really wanted more? Her stomach did flip-flops, more from the thought of Chandler’s reaction than the bitterness of the salad greens.

  God, maybe she was trying too hard. Maybe she should just pretend that nothing was happening between them and be polite and say good night as soon as the dessert plates landed on the table. Okay, she was definitely overthinking things. But how could she stop? It’d been so long since things were effortless, were easy, that she really didn’t know how to handle them at all.

  But thankfully, Chandler stayed quiet. The waiter removed their salad plates and replaced them with their entrées, chicken for her and fish for him. The clink of cutlery seemed extra loud, even though voices and music buzzed through the room. But there, between her and this man, there was nothing but silence.

  Why did she have to be so damn weird? Other women didn’t have this problem, did they? Flirting was something she’d done when she was younger, more confident. Now when she tried she felt like a phony.

  Oh well, fake it till you make it, right?

  “I guess I should thank you for running interference. I don’t know that Leonard is really my type.”

  Chandler laughed a little as he cast a glance in Leonard’s direction. Eliza followed his gaze. The man was seventy-five if he was a day, and it looked like he and his lady friend had downed at least a bottle of wine each.

  “I think Leonard’s salving his wounds by checking out the other available women. Of course, I can’t fault his taste. He did pick the most beautiful woman in the room to set his sights on first.”

  “Now you’re just being outrageous.”

  “Nope.” The look o
n his face was completely serious as he laid his fork down by his plate. “I mean it. You look incredible tonight.”

  Eliza’s cheeks went hot, and she put her fork down to keep her hand from trembling. “You’re coming on kind of strong.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Honestly?” She asked just to buy her some time.

  He nodded.

  “I don’t know what to do with you.”

  “I know what I’d like you to do with me.”

  The hunger in his voice sent a pang straight to her lower belly, and she clenched her thighs together to keep the throbbing from shivering through her body. Her mind descended into dark, passionate images of Chandler undressing her, laying her down, pressing her body against his long, hard heat.

  Her mouth went dry and she reached for her wineglass. It was empty.

  “Allow me,” Chandler said, and rose.

  “Bring a bottle,” Eliza said, her voice shaking slightly. She hoped he couldn’t hear it. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she was glad to see that the sun had finally sunk below the horizon. “Let’s walk on the beach together.”

  His eyes lit with excited promise. “If that’s what you want.”

  Her nod was definite. “Yeah. I’ll meet you on the patio.”

  Chandler made his way toward the bar. Eliza watched him go. Her heart thumped hard against her ribs, and she closed her eyes for a second to calm it.

  “Are you okay?” Stacey’s voice floated to her.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m going to take a walk.” Scraping her chair back, Eliza smiled at the woman’s concerned face. “Seriously, don’t worry about me.”

  She grabbed both her and Chandler’s empty glasses and stood.

  “Ah,” Stacey said, a wistful note in her voice. “Okay, I get it.”

  “See you later?”

  Stacey nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah. Have fun!”

  “Don’t worry, I will.” Eliza winked, then darted out the patio doors behind them. Sliding the glass door closed, she placed the glasses on a nearby low wall and took a heavy breath.

  Okay. She could do this. Spontaneous sex kitten. That was who she was on this trip. Her past didn’t matter, and neither did anything else.

  Chandler was smoking hot and into her. So why not let go and have some fun?

  “Shut up,” she hissed at her stomach, which was grumbling nervously. She’d eaten at least half of her entrée, so the noise had to be due to nerves, not hunger. But it needed to stop now.

  The music, which had been muffled due to the closed doors, suddenly became loud again as Chandler slid the door open.

  Eliza pinned a seductive smile to her face. This was going to be incredible. There wasn’t another option. Failing again was completely nonnegotiable.

  No matter what, she was going to have fun tonight.

  5

  The bottle was cold in Chandler’s hands, and he tried to pretend that it was the condensation trickling down his palm that caused the shiver in his gut. It wasn’t. It was that smile on Eliza’s face as she stepped forward, wineglasses in hand.

  Thank God Greg had encouraged him to come to this wedding.

  “I grabbed a bottle of champagne. It was the closest thing to the edge of the bar.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Eliza said, the glow of the outside light shining softly against her hair.

  “There’s a little veranda down the steps over there. I saw it when I was going down to the beach this afternoon. Looked private. Would you like to take a drink there?”

  Eliza nodded, so Chandler led the way.

  Their steps echoed against the stone wall edging the walkway, ferns spilling over their boundaries and trailing down the concrete stairs. Small flowers filled a huge planter, their colored faces looking washed out in the muted gray of the evening. Laughter and music faded behind them, almost imperceptible by the time they reached the partially hidden veranda.

  “Wow,” Eliza said, looking around as Chandler set the champagne bottle on a glass-topped table. “This is gorgeous. Are you sure it’s okay that we’re here?”

  “There’s a schedule on the wall over there.” Chandler gestured with the neck of the champagne bottle before trapping it in a tight grip and popping the cork. “There was an event here this morning, and not another one until Saturday.”

  “Then I guess we’ve got it all to ourselves.”

  He hoped he wasn’t mistaking the sultry note of seduction in her voice. She pressed a palm against the table, leaning back and jutting her hip out slightly toward him. His throat went dry as he poured each of them a glass of champagne.

  “Appears that way.”

  She accepted the glass from him and took a long, slow sip.

  “You know, you never answered me.”

  “What?”

  “Before. When I asked you if you were seeing anyone.”

  “Oh.” Her glance darted away, and a small shred of nervous energy trembled down his neck. Had he misunderstood somehow? The signs had all pointed to go since she’d appeared in front of him at the elevators, but he still couldn’t shake the worry that he’d misread the signals.

  He tightened his fist. He’d done a lot of that with women in the past. His ex’s face popped briefly into his mind’s eye. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what had gone wrong there—was he doomed to repeat the same mistakes? Spreading his fingers deliberately, he relaxed. Damn it, things were different now. He was different now. And he wouldn’t let the mistakes of his marriage continue to haunt him here, half a world away from home.

  “If this is too much for you, I get it. If there’s someone back home that you care about, I’m the last man who’s going to interfere. If you want me to leave, just say the word,” he said, reaching for Eliza’s hand. “But if not, then come with me.”

  He waited, hardly daring to breathe for a minute or two. Her eyes were dark, glittering softly as she stared at him. The oxygen seemed to freeze inside his lungs, not moving in or out. It was fine. He’d breathe later. For now, all he wanted was to hear her answer.

  “I’m not seeing anyone.”

  Her words seemed to push air back into his lungs. She threaded her fingers through his, and a small clink rent the air as she set her wineglass down next to his.

  “Good.”

  She smiled wryly, looking at the ground as they began walking down the steps to the beach. “You don’t have to sound so smug about it.”

  “Why shouldn’t I be? I’m on the most beautiful beach on the planet beneath a bright moon, and a gorgeous woman who just happens to be single is choosing to walk with me. If anybody’s got a right to be happy at the moment, it’s me.”

  She snorted, but let it pass.

  They walked slowly, picking their way down the lighted path to the beach. After a minute or two, Eliza pulled her hand free from his grip. Chandler turned.

  “Everything okay?”

  “These damn heels are awful in the sand.” She put a palm on his shoulder to steady herself while she removed the offending shoes. “I keep sinking up to my ankles.”

  “Here.” Chandler took the shoes from her, tucking his fingers into the heel straps. “Hold on to me while you walk. I’ll steady you.”

  Even in the shallow yellow glow of the path light, her large eyes were beautiful. “I can manage just fine.”

  “I know you can. But it was a clever ploy to keep holding your hand.”

  “Giving away trade secrets?”

  “Every one I can.” He grinned as he took her hand again. A slight tremble shook her fingers in his, and he tightened his grip. They’d reached the shoreline now, and the scent of the ocean breeze was full in his nostrils. Waves crashed one after another, spreading their foamy fingers onto the sand. Eliza was on his right, closer to the water. One particular wave rushed toward them. Chandler pulled her back, but she just laughed and squealed as the water hit her toes.

  “Ooh, it’s warmer than I expected. Mmm, feels like bathwater.”

>   The mental image of Eliza, naked, her beautiful body sunk neck-deep in bubbly water, her dark hair piled high on her head, her pinkened nipples barely visible beneath the soapy foam . . .

  “Ooh, too close, too close! I’m going to get soaked!”

  His reflexes kicked in, which was a good thing because his brain was still locked in that bath-time fantasy. Running backward, he pulled Eliza after him out of the way of the waves, but not before they’d both been soaked to the thighs. She bent over and dusted sand from her hem.

  “I can’t believe I got this dress wet! Ugh, that’s what I get for spending so much on a piece of fabric that I’ll never wear again.”

  “What do you mean? You look great in that dress.”

  Eliza looked up at him from her bent-over position, squeezing seawater from the hem of her dress. “This is a special occasion. I got this dress just for Bree’s wedding.”

  “What do you normally wear, then?”

  “Lab coats, usually.” She stopped there, as if there was more to say, but she didn’t continue.

  “Lab coat? Are you in the medical field?”

  She shot him a pained look, and he almost wished he’d swallowed the question. But damn it, he wanted to know more about her. Maybe giving her some information about him would make her feel better about sharing.

  He shrugged. “I’m a private investigator. Never done anything that needed a lab coat.”

  Eliza stood then, and crossed her arms over her middle as if she was uncomfortable. The change in her was definite, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. “It’s not medical. I’m a chemist. I do testing on pharmaceuticals, consumer products, lots of different things.”

  As she spoke, she didn’t look at him. Damn it. He was smarter than this. Maybe Eliza was using this trip the same way he was—to get away from home, from the problems and worries that plagued her there. He wouldn’t like it if someone prodded him for the ugly details of his divorce while he was on vacation and trying to have a good time. There might be something in her past just as painful. Even though he really wanted to know more about her, he shoved his curiosity into the back of his mind and stepped toward her.