Bad Behavior

by Kristin Hardy

  He reached out and tangled his fingers in hers. “I’m glad we ran into each other down here.”

  “Just think of what we missed all those years. Tragic.”

  “It wouldn’t have been the same as it has been,” he told her.

  “You wouldn’t have known all those tricks.” The note of mischief was back.

  Dom relaxed slightly. “Exactly.”

  “So basically what you’re saying is that it took all those years to bring us to these two days?”

  “You could say that.”

  “They’ve been pretty good days.”

  “They’ve been the best days.” And he moved in to pull her to a stop, folding her against him to hold her, just hold her and breathe in her scent. It was pointless to regret what couldn’t be changed, what couldn’t be undone.

  So why did he feel like he’d been robbed?

  THEY SAT AT BREAKFAST, the air still touched with morning cool. A light breeze stirred the thatch that hung at the edge of the open-air restaurant. Magpies fluttered in and out to sneak morsels from unguarded plates.

  Delaney hated goodbyes.

  It didn’t matter if she was planning to see the person again or not, goodbyes sucked, plain and simple. It would have been perfect if their vacations had been the same length. Then they’d have had time enough to get this sexual whatever-it-was out of their systems, time enough to get tired of it.

  Time enough to be ready to call it good.

  But there was nothing good about this goodbye. If they ended things now, she’d never stop wondering about him and wishing for more. If they got together in L.A., it would only end—and probably awkwardly—once they’d burned out, and they’d maybe lose the nice memories of this visit. Two perfect days. She wanted more, but then she had at fourteen, as well. Friends? She didn’t even entertain the notion for a moment. Two perfect days. They would have to be enough.

  So why did she find herself hit by the urge to grab him and hold on?

  “When does your shuttle come?” she asked instead.

  Dom checked his watch. “Fifteen minutes. We should get going.” He signaled the waiter for the bill.

  Delaney nodded to herself. “Want some money for that?”

  “All set. I already owe you money for the eco park ticket yesterday, remember?”

  “You paid for the car to Tulum.”

  “I was going whether you were there or not. I’ll pay you the money.” He signed the check and rose. “We’d better go.”

  How was it that they could have spent two days together as intimate as two people could get and yet now the words were gone? Delaney wondered as they crossed into the lobby. It felt like the phone calls when they were kids, at the end. So much to be said but no words for any of it, and talking around the silence was excruciating. It was easier to concentrate on walking, to stand at the front of the hotel and wait.

  Wait for him to leave.

  “Hello,” said a voice behind her. Delaney jumped and whirled to see a red parrot, sitting on a perch in the planter area behind them. “Hola linda,” it crooned and rattled off something in rapid Spanish.

  She blinked at Dom. “What did he say?”

  His mouth twitched. “The G-rated version is ‘once you’ve had a parrot, you’ll never go back.’”

  It was enough to break up the tension.

  “It was—”

  “So—”

  They started simultaneously and broke off together. Dom laughed softly. “You first.”

  She swallowed. “I’m glad we ran into each other. Good times.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Too short.”

  “You should have stayed longer.”

  “You should have come down sooner.”

  They looked at each other. “So how about when we get home?” Dom asked. “I want to see you.”

  And so there it was.

  “I don’t know. I’m kind of a minimalist. Less is more,” she said lightly. “We had a couple of stellar days. Maybe we should leave it at that.”

  His grin lost a bit of its insouciance. “Maybe we’re at the start of a roll of stellar days.”

  “And maybe we’ll get back to the real world and decide we bore one another to tears.”

  “How will you know that without some research and testing?”

  “We’ve been having vacation sex,” Delaney said with a trace of impatience. “It’s like make-up sex or welcome-home sex. Not the same thing as the day-to-day.” That was why she avoided the day-to-day at all costs.

  “All the more reason to try it.”

  “Look, the past two days have been great. I’d hate to ride with it too long and see it turn into anything less.”

  Dom’s eyes narrowed. “So, the shoe’s on the other foot now?”

  That wasn’t what this was about, Delaney thought immediately.

  Was it?

  She forced her voice to stay flat. “Don’t you have a shuttle to catch?”

  “Eventually.”

  “Look behind you. I think eventually’s here.”

  The van was white and unmarked, but the driver who got out wore white trousers and a bright orange tour company polo shirt.

  “All I’m asking for is a phone number,” Dom said as the driver walked up with a clipboard. “To get your money back.”

  “Consider it a gift.”

  “Gordon? Novak?” the driver called out.

  “Right here.” Eric appeared behind them. “Come on, dude, gotta go.” He wrapped an arm around Delaney’s shoulders. “It was fun. Take care.”

  “You’re horning in on my act,” Dom protested mildly.

  “You’ll see each other when she gets back to L.A. Plant one on her and let’s go catch our flight.”

  Dom turned to her. “You heard the man. Phone number?”

  Delaney rolled her eyes. “You’re a resourceful guy. If you’re that desperate to see me, I’m sure you can figure it out. Look at it as a test.”

  “Then I guess all there is left to do is plant one on you.”

  They’d spent two and a half days practically welded together. They’d made love until she was sore with it. How was it, then, that a simple kiss, the pressure of his lips on hers, could take her away so that she wasn’t aware of the people passing by, or the screech of the parrots, or the rumble of the shuttle’s engine? And how was it that as much as she wanted this single moment in time to stretch out, it was ending?

  Dom raised his head, his eyes steady on hers. “This isn’t over.”

  At some point it would be, though. “It’s the smart way to handle it.”

  “This isn’t over.” He pressed a final kiss to her forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

  And then he turned and walked away. Somehow it seemed more unfair than ever that he was the one who was leaving again.

  It didn’t matter, she told herself.

  “Travel safely,” she said as he got into the front seat of the shuttle van.

  And she stood there and watched as it drove out of sight.

  7

  “YOUR WAITRESS WILL BE with you momentarily, gentlemen. Enjoy your lunch.” The hostess set the menus on the table and headed briskly away.

  The restaurant’s theme was 1950s chop house, with dark wood wainscoting and deep, tufted leather booths. The menu ran to porterhouse and T-bones, not tacos, but when the waitress appeared, Dom would have to fight the urge to order a Corona. Beer at lunch, probably not a good thing. There was far too much work to be done.

  That didn’t mean he’d been finding it easy to do it in the three days since he’d been home. To say that his concentration had been off was an understatement. Or maybe it wasn’t off, maybe he was concentrating on other things. One other thing, specifically.

  Delaney Phillips.

  He might have left her at the resort but she’d never left his thoughts. He’d waited in the airport check-in line and remembered her mouth. He’d pulled his bag off the luggage carousel and heard her laughter. He’d stared at his c
omputer and recalled waking in the early morning to find himself on the edge of orgasm, her lips and tongue already wet and warm around him.

  “…at least that’s what I think,” Eric was saying. “Work for you?”

  “What?” Dom asked blankly.

  “The performance-based balloon payment. I think it’ll make the difference.”

  “In what?”

  Eric rolled his eyes. “Wheels Up Tire Centers? That ittybitty hundred-location chain out in the Midwest that we’re about ready to buy? You do remember them?”

  Dom gave him a look from under his brows. “Yes.”

  “I sure hope so, because in two days we’re supposed to be flying out to check over the operation. I need you focused here, my man, not Mexico. Actually, what I need is a business development and acquisitions department, but you’re all I’ve got.”

  “Thanks for your forbearance,” Dom said drily.

  “Hey, if it hadn’t been for me, you’d never have gotten out of Mr. Potter’s civics class.”

  “The way I remember it, I was the one who saved you.”

  “I understand that you’re susceptible to memory lapses,” Eric said. “As opposed to right now, when you seem to be having a brain lapse.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That faraway look you have when we’re supposed to be talking business and you’re thinking about something else. Or should I say someone else?”

  Dom looked Eric in the eye for a moment. “Okay, give the man a prize. But you were the one who was hot to get me down there and leave work behind.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll grant you Delaney’s a better class of babe than the ones you usually hang out with, but, speaking as your legal advisor, it’s time to get back on the job.”

  Eric was right; now was the time to be thinking about G.A.C., about the acquisition, about the IPO. Not Delaney’s scent. Not her light, teasing touch. Specifically not that way she had of glancing at him with that naughty glint in those green eyes of hers.

  The problem, Dom decided, was that he’d gone cold turkey. Two incredibly intense days and then boom, back in the saddle. The time since had dragged by, and the better part of a week remained before she was due home. Too long to go without hearing her voice, seeing her face, touching her.

  It seemed impossible that he’d gone sixteen years without her. How had he let her slip away?

  There was no chance he’d make that mistake again.

  “Welcome to Buckley’s. My name is Trixie and I’ll be your waitress.” A smiling young woman stood at their table in a crisp white shirt and black trousers. “Can I get you gentlemen something to drink?”

  “A Corona,” Dom said, handing her the menu. “I’ll have a Corona.”

  “UNA CERVEZA Y DOS margaritas, por favor,” Delaney told the bartender.

  “Corona or Dos Equis, señorita?”

  “Corona,” she responded. It was the most taxing decision she planned to make all day. The week had flown by. She and the gang had snorkeled, they’d swum with dolphins, they’d danced themselves silly—several times—combed the shops. Today wasn’t about all that. Today was for working on their tans and playing in the waves.

  Absently, she slid onto one of the stools at the pool bar, the water lapping around her thighs.

  Next to her, a husky, stubbled blond guy stirred. “Hey, you’re drinkin’ Corona. Good taste. Or d’you just taste good?” He leered at her blearily but spoiled even that lame effect by almost wobbling off his stool.

  Delaney gave him a polite smile. “No habla ingles.”

  “Wher’ ya from, Sweden?” he asked.

  Next to the guy, his friend burst out laughing while Delaney resisted the urge to shove him off the stool.

  “What?” the blond beach bum demanded.

  “Fletcher, you dumbass.” The other guy leaned around to nod at Delaney. “Excuse my buddy here. He’s got an allergy to alcohol. It tends to turn him into an idiot.”

  “That so?” she asked.

  “I don’t have his allergy. My name’s Rob, by the way.” Dark hair, wraparound sunglasses with blue mirrored lenses that reflected her image back at her. “And you’re…?”

  “Delaney.” She turned back to the bar.

  “I’ve seen you around with your friends. The bunch of you are hard to miss.”

  “Gee, no kidding.”

  His teeth flashed in a quick smile. “That was meant as a compliment. A herd of gorgeous women on the loose? Yeah, definitely hard to miss. So you having a good time down here, Delaney?”

  “Mmmm,” she said, thinking of Dom. “So good I’m working on a scrapbook.”

  Rob raised his eyebrows. “Not before you give me a chance to be in it, I hope.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve snorkeled, parasailed, bonded with dolphins, did the ruins…” Had sex in the water. “I think we’ve pretty well done it all.”

  “You’ve only scratched the surface. Have you gone sailing?” he challenged.

  “Might as well have. We’ve rented a WaveRunner.”

  “Not the same thing. You get out on that water in a good breeze, it’s like nothing else. I’ve got a Hobie Cat reserved for this afternoon. Why don’t you come out with me? I’ll show you.”

  “Well…”

  “You can even bring some of your friends,” he tempted.

  She shook her head as the bartender put the finished margaritas on the bar. “Probably not. Thanks, though.”

  “It’s perfect out there,” he persisted. “Look at those white caps. Come on, give it a try?”

  She flicked a wary glance at Fletcher and picked up the drinks. “I think I’ll leave it to you and your first mate, here.”

  “Don’t worry about him,” Rob said, dismissing Fletcher. “I’m the sailor. He won’t even get on the boat. Whaddya say?”

  Delaney eyed him. It wasn’t that he wasn’t good-looking. She knew what he was offering, and it was a whole lot more than just a ride on a catamaran.

  And as tasty as he looked, it was kind of like seeing a dessert after she’d already gorged on the gourmet main course. She had mild interest but no real desire.

  “Thanks for the offer. I think I’ll have to pass.”

  “You sure?” he asked. “I do think I belong in your scrapbook. I’ll be going out tomorrow if you change your mind.”

  A week before, she’d have jumped at the chance to jump him. Now, she carried the drinks back to Sabrina and Cilla directly.

  Dom Gordon, she thought with a scowl, was a hard act to follow.

  OKAY, SO HE COULD understand some of the charge women got from shopping, Dom thought as he walked into his living room with a beer. Buying a car repair chain wasn’t quite like buying shoes, but he imagined that the charge of acquisition was similar. Granted, the deal was far from turned, but they’d managed the important part. It had taken a flurry of telecons and faxes and a flight to the St. Louis headquarters of Wheels Up, but they’d hammered out the basic framework of the deal.

  And when it closed, G.A.C. would be a third larger and stretch from California to Ohio. He remembered the night he’d graduated with his MBA, toasting with his father and telling him that Gordon’s would be nationwide one day, a public company. “Almost there, Dad,” he said aloud.

  He passionately wished Stan Gordon were around to see it.

  It had started out as Stan’s Garage. By the time Dom had graduated high school, it had grown to four locations, largely fueled by Stan Gordon’s inexhaustible drive and dedication. He wouldn’t allow Dom to do much more than help out on the weekends; Dom’s job, he insisted, was to focus on school. And if that meant that Stan had to rise at 5:00 a.m. and work a twelve-hour day to finish the work and still be home for dinner, that was what he would do, without complaining.

  When Dom hit college, though, he’d started giving back. Between what he’d learned getting his MBA and savvy market investments during the Internet boom, he and his father had increased the business. And
what they’d renamed Gordon’s Auto Centers, soon shortened to G.A.C., rose to twenty locations throughout California within a few years.

  It had been an empire in the making. Dom had worked hard and played even harder. Stan Gordon’s twelve-hour days had shrunk to nine, the lines of exhaustion finally easing. They’d been on top of the world.

  Then came cancer and Stan’s death, with his youngest children just thirteen. Take care of the twins, he’d told Dom. Take care of your mother.

  And for the past five years, Dom had done exactly that. Only that. With luck and skill and the addition of Eric’s savvy, Dom had grown the chain to more than three hundred locations over ten states, and if Dom had found himself inheriting Stan’s twelve-hour days, it had been worth it.

  His work was nearly done, however. All they had to do was pull off the IPO and the twins and his mother would be taken care of. He’d still have the pressure of the business but the crushing responsibility would lessen. It would just be the normal, garden-variety challenge, one he relished: overtaking the market leader one town at a time.

  Wheels Up was the latest move in the strategy. Too bad it hadn’t happened in time for them to include it in the IPO prospectus. Then again, if they’d held up the prospectus until they had the right moment, the IPO would never happen. G.A.C. was simply growing too fast. They couldn’t afford to stop making moves until the IPO was done and they couldn’t generate the resources they needed to keep moving without the IPO.

  So they’d follow the rules and keep the acquisition to themselves until after Gordon’s was public. Once they were officially on the market and out of the SEC quiet period, they could announce the acquisition, get a nice bump in their stock price and make Wall Street happy. Higher stock prices meant more opportunities to acquire more properties.

  And so on, and so on, and so on.

  “Watch out, Midas,” he said. “Here we come.”

  Of course, the successful close of the IPO meant something else besides less pressure. He’d be able to think about something besides work for a change. He’d be able to have a life. And he knew exactly where to start—Delaney Phillips.