A Perfect Holiday

by Riley Murphy

  Once inside, he kicked off his shoes and went directly to the sink to wash his hands. He still had no idea what the hell had been on that rock. Right now he didn’t want to know. With that mess taken care of he grabbed an iced bottle of water out of the fridge and headed to his room. Bed was going to feel good tonight. Tomorrow he’d worry about quirky Sidney with her wide eyes and vibrating phone.

  As usual, he peeled off his clothes and tossed each item into the hamper before he slid naked between the sheets. He closed his eyes thinking he hadn’t been wrong. Bed felt especially good tonight. Yeah.

  “Oh, God. Harder. Oh baby, you rock my world. Yes. Faster. Ahhhhh…”

  His eyes snapped open and he scowled. “Damn, don’t you guys ever take a weekend off?”

  He was all for sex, yet their resident randy couple unfailingly kept him up Friday and Saturday nights. Not only was she a screamer, he was talker and they both were into role playing. Pretty cheesy role-playing if you asked him. This was why most nights when they “had at it” he’d head down to the pool. Their sex played out like a bad porno.

  And when that came to him he shot straight up. “Son of a bitch. No way.”

  This time he really listened while he tried to determine the logistics. Creating a mental floor plan he was shocked. His large penthouse condo ran the length of all three one-bedrooms below and now that he examined the virtual footprint he realized Sidney’s living room was right under his master bedroom.

  All these nights. All the blaming and covert glaring at that middle-aged couple in unit two A. Damn.

  He fell back in the bed and stared at the ceiling. So, it was adorable, wide-eyed Sidney keeping him up at night. Well, well, well. The little school teacher really did have a naughty side. This changed everything. Intrigued? Check. Interested? Check. Turn-on? Check, check.

  She’s an angel…

  Right, maybe if she hadn’t mentally stripped him when she first opened that door, he’d have been more convinced about that fact. But she did slam the door in his face so he should just leave it at that. Who was he kidding? That was the very reason he was burning to get to know her better. And what impeccable timing to do so, as they’d have this cozy little complex all to themselves for the weekend. With this unexpected turn, he was beginning to think his forced sabbatical from the jobsite might not be as bad as he’d originally thought.

  “Harder. Oh, Doctor, you can examine me anytime. Faster. Oh, yes, the gloves…”

  Scratch might not be bad. This was more like fantastic. He’d be sure to thank the guys for making him take a few extra days off for R & R before the holidays. Clearly they were right and he’d been working too hard. How else had he missed the little hottie literally underneath him for the past six months?

  Suddenly the muffled talking and moaning stopped and one would have thought he’d be happy about it. At least he could get some shut-eye, but it wasn’t to be. Strangely his semi-hard state went to full-flag alert with the continuing silence because now all his thoughts were on what she was doing down there if she wasn’t watching TV.

  He groaned.

  He knew what she was doing.

  Sleep eluded him. Damn.

  Chapter Two

  Sidney watched the suds tumble and slide through the circle of glass in the front of the washing machine. Riveting. Only thing better would be recalling what a complete and utter ass she’d made out of herself last night. Riker probably thought she was a stalker or something. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut about his middle of the night pool visits?

  This was one time she was grateful he was MIA over the weekends. Even when he was in residence he had a habit of leaving early and coming home late, so there were no worries that she’d have to face him today.

  “Come on.” She tapped the glass and growled, “not another blasted rinse.” She’d been waiting for the washer to finish up with the second half of her sheets.

  By her calculation this meant five more minutes to go. Drat. She looked around for a place to sit and came up empty as her usual seat, the counter, was covered with her neatly separated piles of fluffy versus non-fluffy loads.

  She eyed a spot on the terrazzo floor. Nope, probably cool, but also dirty. Placing a palm on the dryer she winced. Too hot. That left only the washer. Meh, what the hell? She hopped up and made herself comfortable. With hands stuffed under her thighs and feet swinging in time with the rinse chug, she looked around the room. It seemed different from this vantage point. Bigger somehow and when she spotted the newspaper clipping on the bulletin board about some local celebrity wrestler, she couldn’t help thinking of Riker.

  Unlike the short, bulldog looking bruiser in the article, Riker was tall and had lean muscle mass. Thick, but not too thick. The kind of body an artist would want to sculpt. Heck, if he’d pose for her she’d get out the Play-Doh and give it a whirl.

  The idea had merit, she concluded, when the wash cycle changed. Now the heady rhythm caused her to close her eyes and drop her head back.

  “Nice.” Relaxing her shoulders, she thought about what kind of perfect man-sculpture she’d create using him as her model. With his rugged features and wide back? Those hard biceps, bulging and straining, begging for a woman to cling to them?

  “Mmm…” Damn, the steady vibrations penetrating her lower half felt pretty good. Really good, she decided as she wiggled her butt and moved her hands out from underneath her to get better contact.

  “Oh, yeah…” She shifted, licking her lips as she thought about digging her nails in his chest. Pectorals molded so beautifully and abs? God, a real artist would have field day replicating that intricate basket-weave pattern. That’s exactly what it looked like. Hadn’t she’d memorized every contour, every rope-like sinew, during those midnight swims of his?

  The recall made her instantly restless and she rubbed herself against the smooth metal a little harder. The vibrations became steadier. Rocking her in a very, very, good way. So sultry, all she could do was go with it. Real, as in really, good…

  “Sidney, what are you doing?”

  She jerked to attention so hard she nearly got whiplash. “Hey! You scared the bejesus out of me.”

  He didn’t apologize. Nor did he speak. He just stared right at her and boy, was he tall. She gazed directly into his glittering eyes. Right. No wilting off the machine to melt at his feet. He expected an answer. Now, what could she say? She couldn’t very well say “I was riding the spin cycle while fantasizing about you,” could she?

  Best to keep it simple. Direct and to the point. “Laundry.”

  His lopsided grin made her stomach do flip-flops that turned to full rolling somersaults when he drawled, “I can see that darlin’. I only ask because you’re looking a little flushed.”

  “It’s the, um,” she hiked a thumb to her right, “dryer heat. Gets me all the time.”

  That to-die-for grin slid up into a devilish smile. “I bet it does. How long are you going to be?”

  When he shoved his hands into his pockets she nearly sighed out loud. His shoulder muscles bunched, his biceps flexed and she just knew underneath his black T-shirt those abs of his would be weaving a fine pattern.

  Wait, she needed to stay focused and not on him. Laundry. Think laundry. She shook her hair behind her shoulders and pointed to the piles at his back, counting, “One, two, three…I’d say I’ll be done by lunchtime.”

  The second he spun around she wanted to die. Great. Now he was eyeing her clothes. Good thing she always buried her underwear at the bottom.

  “You missed one.”

  When he bent and scooped an item off the floor she was sure she was going to die. She closed her eyes and repeated the silent mantra, please let it be a shirt. A shirt. A shirt. Over and over again.

  “Pretty. What pile?”

  Gingerly, she cracked a lid prepared to die right on the washer if he had a pair of her tightie whites in hand. If he did, she swore she’d hold her breath until she expired. Better to die the way she wante
d to than out of embarrassment, so when she spied her lace camisole swinging from his finger, she blew out a breath.

  “Non-fuzzy.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The first load on the left.”

  He tossed the lace on the pile and turned back to her. “So you’ll be done by noon?”

  “Yes.”

  Instantly the room she’d thought seemed bigger only a few moments ago was feeling small. Tiny. Suffocating. Prison-ish, if she were being truthful. Because he was back to examining her with those stunning brown eyes. They were the color of burnt sienna with brilliant flecks of deep rich gold.

  “Great. I’d like to make up for disturbing you last night.” The smile he flashed could have lit up a football stadium, “I thought I could take you out to lunch.”

  “No.”

  He was as surprised as she was with that clip answer. Doing a double take, he frowned, “No?”

  Good lord, her heart hammered against her rib cage like the woodpecker drilling bark in that animal segment she’d showed her class last week. She was sure her face was redder now than when she’d been heated before. “I-I mean I have to stay on site. You know, in case a pipe bursts or someone else needs to be let into their unit. What if there’s a delivery? I promised Martha I’d stay put.”

  He scrutinized her for a moment and then sighed. “I see. You really take your babysitting jobs seriously. Another time then?”

  Another time. Another time? There wouldn’t be another time, she was sure of it. He was six months into his seven month lease. Once he was done with his home remodel she knew he was moving out. At least that’s what the scuttlebutt pointed to. She’d likely never see him again. A silent bell tinged in her head. It was go time. Now or never, as Monday her parents would be back from the Keys to send her on one guilt trip after another. Especially since she’d turned Ken down.

  Oh no, he was leaving. He was— “Wait, why don’t I make lunch? We could have it down by the pool under the blue umbrella.”

  Her eyes were glued to his butt. Man, he had a fine ass and a damn fine—eek—she gasped and looked up because package, package, package was screaming in her brain when he’d spun around and she’d been left staring at his crotch.

  “Why the blue one?”

  “What?” She was so relieved he didn’t call her on her ogling him she wasn’t paying attention.

  “Why that umbrella?”

  “Oh, it’s the only one that stays fully open.”

  “Hm.” He tilted his head as if he was considering something. She knew what it was the moment he came to her and asked, “If I let you handle lunch how would that be me making up for bothering you last night?”

  “You weren’t bothering me.”

  “I’m sure I interrupted something. You were probably in the middle of a great movie.”

  “Movie? No, I don’t watch much TV.” She shifted forward to jump down only he didn’t step back to give her room like she expected him to. Shooting a look up, she waited.

  “Here, let me help you down, darlin’.”

  She would have said the way he pronounced that endearment got her all hot and tingly but it wasn’t. Those feelings came when he lifted her off the machine and moved in close. Real close to crowd her so she was forced to slide down the length of his hard body until her toes reached the floor. That was when she decided this is what had her positively burning up inside.

  She was nose to nipple with him with barely three inches of space between. The scent, the heat and power that radiated from him made her lightheaded. So, this is what it was like to be totally in lust with someone? Finally the phenomenon had happened to her. Not that she was surprised it had taken this long for her to experience a real knock-to-the-knees crush on someone. She’d always been a late bloomer.

  Deep breath.

  For once timing was on her side. She thanked her lucky stars that she’d made a stand with her parents. Oh, she’d eventually cave to their demands like she usually did, but as of right now? She was free to do what she wanted as she hadn’t agreed to their plans. She’d broken things off cleanly with Ken and now she faced her first and probably only chance to have a dirty, filthy, sex-fabulous disgusting weekend with her “dreamy Playboy”.

  That concluded the only thing left to do was seal the deal. He was feeling guilty over bugging her last night? So be it. He wanted to make it up to her? Alrighty.

  She put a hand on his chest and pretended to smooth a wrinkle while she copped a feel. “Okay, you make lunch and I’ll meet you under the blue umbrella at twelve thirty. How does that sound?”

  “Perfect, darlin’.” He wrapped his hand around hers and smiled down. “Absolutely perfect.”

  She waited until he was gone before she collapsed against the now-still washer and fanned herself. Seduction wasn’t her strong suit. Men in general made her slightly uncomfortable.

  Face it, the guys you’ve dated and the one you nearly got engaged to were intellectually pretentious, suit-wearing assholes.

  Riker wasn’t that kind of a guy. At least he didn’t have the usual characteristics of one. She’d never seen him in a suit and he hadn’t corrected her English or asked her to answer an impossible question. Nope and she highly doubted he’d ever spent a year backpacking in the wilds while attempting to achieve self-enlightenment. Not that she had anything against those things. It’s just when Ken got back from his journey of personal fulfillment he wasn’t interested in traditional ways to fulfill anything. Namely her and the sex life she was dying to expand on.

  She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Riker had strong hands and lots of muscle. She’d never seen him in anything dressier than a pair of khakis and a linen shirt. His hair was longer than the current fashion, and most definitely longer than Ken’s brush cut.

  And Riker was right. This lunch idea was absolutely perfect.

  “I got that,” Riker murmured, reaching over Sidney’s head and handing the delivery guy at the gates two twenties. “Keep the change,” he told him as he accepted the huge brown bag.

  Sidney turned and bent toward the food bag. She took a deep breath in and sighed it out. “Mmm. Lunch I take it? Italian, yes?”

  He laughed because he was reminded of the old cartoons he used to watch when one of the characters was smitten with the aroma on a plate of food and followed the trail of steam to the table.

  “Yes, with some regular old American standbys just in case you don’t like chicken parmesan.”

  Her jaw dropped and she playfully swatter his shoulder. “Who doesn’t like parmesan?”

  He’d been wrong about adorable. Sidney Capp was gorgeous. “I can see you’re going to be easy to please,” he said and nearly dropped the bag when her wide eyes darkened and she blushed. Jesus, was the woman’s mind always in the gutter? He had to bite his lip to keep from smiling like the Cheshire cat.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Just perfect darlin’. Absolutely perfect.”

  Chapter Three

  An hour and a half later Riker refilled her lemonade and chuckled. “Sounds like teaching small children is a riot.”

  “Now,” she pushed her glass aside, “I wouldn’t go that far. After all, I’ve been giving you just the highlights.”

  He loved the way she twirled her finger in her hair when she spoke and how her eyes lit up when she laughed. He’d been hanging around the wrong kind of women so long he’d forgotten what flirting with the right kind did to a guy. How it stroked a man’s ego and made him sit up straighter and flex some muscles to show off.

  “You mentioned something about a relationship segment? Isn’t kindergarten a little early to start crushing hopes and dreams?”

  “Ouch.” She seemed to debate a moment and then shrugged. “It’s actually fun.” She held up a hand. “Not crushing little dreams, but listening to my guys’ pearls of wisdom before they get socially corrected.”

  “Don’t you mean morally hijacked?”

  She mouthed
the word wow before she said, “With a cynical outlook like that I’m thinking you could use some cheering up.” He grinned. She really was something else. “On one condition though.”

  He waited until she stopped saucily wiggling her brows at him. “Shoot.”

  “If I tell you, then you have to promise to share some of your fun contractor moments with me.”

  He nodded, even though he wasn’t sure he had any. Work was work.

  “Let’s see, I asked one of my classes what was important to a mommy and daddy relationship. Mind you,” she pointed at him, “they had the answer in their booklets so I wasn’t asking them to be creative with this. But, you know, that didn’t stop them.”

  “No?” She was glowing and totally came alive when she spoke about her kids. The good and the bad.

  “One of the boys announced that a mom and dad needed to like the same thing.”

  “Sounds reasonable to me.”

  “Yeah, but here’s the rest of his answer and I quote,” she said, punctuating with air-quotes. “They need to like the same thing, like sports. When a mom likes sports she keeps the chips and dip coming.”

  “Still sounds pretty reasonable to me.”

  “Reasonable? How about needing something in common?”

  “I’m on board with that.”

  “Okay, I was too until he told me the one thing her parents had in common was they didn’t want any more kids after they’d had him.”

  Sitting back, he grinned. “You made that up.”

  “No, no I didn’t.” She pointed again, but huskily laughed this time. “I wish I had, but I can’t take credit for that one. Wanna know what the best age to get married is according to one of my treasures?”

  He was moving his glass in a circle, watching the ice cubes spin, when he stopped and looked up at her. “Sure.”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “Interesting. Why?”