Red Shoes & A Diary

by Mia Zachary

  “Glad to hear it, Trouble.” He arched one brow at her before taking a sip of his beer, then setting the bottle on the bar. “So. Our friend here tells me that you’re looking for a stud-muffin.”

  She whipped her head around and caught Alfonso grinning at them. “Stop matchmaking and start drink-making. You’re almost as bad as Julie.”

  The young bartender hastily went to take an order farther down the bar.

  “He thought maybe I’d be a good candidate.” Nick paused, a gleam of humor lighting his eyes. “Of course, I told him you’re not really my type.”

  Brows furrowed in mock insult, Meghan set her glass on the bar with a snap. “What is that supposed to mean? You didn’t seem to mind my type earlier.”

  “Oh, there’s not too much wrong with you—”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “I like my women a little on the trashy side.” He held up a hand to stop her reaction. “Sorry, it’s a song title—I’m a country music fan.”

  She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Heaven help me. Ugly shirts and country music, too?”

  “All I meant was that I normally go for scarlet-lipped, line-dancing, beer-drinking gals. Until you, that is.”

  She appreciated the compliment. But she was trying to ruin her reputation. “I drank a beer once.”

  “You’re a wild one, all right.” Nick teased. “It would take a lot of beer for you to have any less class.”

  “Do you think trashy women are more fun?”

  The amusement faded from his eyes and his expression was inscrutable. “They’re uncomplicated. The last thing you are.”

  “I’m not complicated. My needs are really quite simple.” She rested her chin on her palm. “But every guy that Julie introduced tonight was a loser in some way.”

  “I guess I still have a chance then.”

  “Oh, you’re definitely in the running. As long as you’re not a gigolo, a pervert, a homosexual or a cop.”

  Physically, Nick didn’t move a rock-hard muscle. Yet he still managed to give the impression that he’d retreated several feet. “That sure makes your opinion clear.”

  Meghan mentally smacked a palm against her forehead. Why did she have to bring that up? She’d been thinking about the Mr. Fabulous contestants, but the last part slipped out before she realized what she’d said. Those Miami Vice drinks had obviously loosened her tongue. Way to go, Megs.

  She made a sweeping motion with her hand, as if she could erase her words. “I didn’t mean to say that cops are all bad.”

  “But you did. So, what’s your problem with cops?” His eyes contained shadows that created a kaleidoscope of shifting emotion. He drained a full third of his beer in one swallow.

  “My brother-in-law was a police officer.”

  “Was?”

  Stupid! The seductive mood was broken and she had only herself to blame. Meghan tightened her grip on the glass as he waited for her to elaborate. After another mouthful of frozen slush, she answered his earlier question instead.

  “I don’t have a problem with cops. Just getting too close to them. There were too many nights I stayed with Jules when Kyle didn’t come home. She was always anxious and scared until she heard that key turn in the door.”

  Nick pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and pinched off the end before lighting it. “So he quit the force?”

  She had no intention of discussing the shooting, or her own culpability. “Why did you break your cigarette in half?”

  He studied her as he inhaled, as if deciding whether or not to pursue the topic. Then he carefully blew the smoke away from her. “I’ve been trying to quit.”

  She slowly exhaled as well, grateful he let the other subject drop. “It’s a terrible habit, very unhealthy.”

  “Yeah, I know. I started back when I was in the Army. Not much else to do on field maneuvers.” He signaled Alfonso for another beer before looking back at her. “So, what criteria are you using for the stud-muffin position anyway?”

  His leg brushed against hers as he changed his stance. The brief touch of soft denim on her bare leg scrambled her senses. Or maybe it was the Miami Vice going to her head.

  “Um, what was— Oh, I remember.” She ticked off on her fingers. “I’m supposed to be looking for a guy who is sexy, virile, cultured, successful, worldly, romantic and sensitive.”

  “Notice any contradictions here? How is a guy supposed to be virile and sensitive?”

  Her lips quivered as she acknowledged the ridiculousness of the list she and Julie made. “It’s possible.”

  “Only in Mel Gibson movies.” He chuckled as he glanced around the Singles Mingle. “Your sister seems to be looking for replacements.”

  Meghan reached for her glass and sipped from it, not bothering to hide her disdain. “Remind me to act enthusiastic when she finds the next loser.”

  “You wouldn’t have to pretend with me.” He offered her a sensual, inviting smile.

  Was the excitement singing through her veins due to alcohol or to hormones? Nick’s eyes held both secrets and promises and his expression was one of heated challenge. No doubt any orgasm with him would be as real as it got. Hormones, definitely hormones.

  “Bragging again, Nick?”

  “Just the facts, ma’am.”

  He put one foot up on the brass rail along the bottom of the bar, shifting his weight to the opposite hip. Her gaze dropped to the front of his jeans. Omigod. She stared out at the night sky in order to get her pulse back under control.

  “Why is it that whenever I’m near you, Nick, I feel like I’m on a runaway train with no brakes?”

  His warm fingers gently brushed her cheek, tilting her chin up until she looked at him. There was an odd tenderness in his face. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.”

  Meghan took a quick breath, delighted by the intensity of his gaze…and that swelling in his jeans. He really did want her. She saw it in his eyes, felt it in his touch.

  “Who’s going to keep me safe from you?”

  “You’re looking for trouble and we both know it. But we’ll take things slow and easy. That’s more my speed.”

  She took a gulp of her drink and swallowed hard. Fast or slow, she’d take him any way she could get him. “I didn’t think you had a speed. I haven’t seen you do anything except lounge around and drink beer.”

  Every move he made was economical and easy, but he had to do something to stay in such great shape. His broad shoulders and muscular chest tapered to a lean torso and flat stomach. She watched the muscles bunch under his skin of his forearm as he caught her fingers and helped her to her feet.

  “If you want to see me in action, let’s go and dance. It’s not a country song, but it’s got the same heartbroken sentiment.”

  He settled her into his arms for the slow, romantic ballad. She’d assumed such a big man would be clumsy or hesitant but he led her confidently around the floor, guiding her into some fancy dips and turns.

  Her body fit his perfectly. Or his fit hers perfectly. Whatever. Either way, it felt right to be in his arms, hips swaying and thighs brushing. She’d read somewhere that men who danced well made love even better.

  Nick was an excellent dancer.

  A current of electric awareness arced between them. Could he possibly be as incredible in bed as he was on the dance floor? She was more than anxious to find out. Meghan sneaked a glance at his profile just as he looked down and winked. He seemed to smile with his whole being, his face alight with pleasure. It was a beautiful sight to behold and impossible not to respond with a smile of her own.

  The band played another slow song, so they stayed where they were. She let the soft wail of the saxophone wash over and through her. Nick’s hold was confident and somehow intimate as he pressed her against his large body. She melted into his embrace, enjoying the warmth of his arms. Then she tripped over his foot.

  Uh-oh. It had to be those Miami Vices.

  “Are you okay?” Nick looked down in concern.


  She took a moment to analyze her condition. Hot, light-headed, disoriented and turned on. “I think I’m drunk.”

  “Definitely not my type.” He laughed, a rumble of sound that started deep in his chest. He tightened his arms around her to better support her weight. “I like a woman who can hold her liquor.”

  When the song ended, he guided her back to the bar. “I’m not dancing to any of that disco crap. Hey, Alfonso, can we get some coffee?”

  She leaned against his shoulder, angling her head to look up at him. “I don’t want coffee. I want another Miami Vice.”

  “You’ve had enough ‘vice,’ I think.”

  “Nope. I’m the good girl in the family.”

  He smirked and that was all the encouragement she needed. Tonight, she intended to unleash the Wanton Wench within. If she could stop slurring her words and seeing double.

  “It’s too bad I’m not your type. I don’t like beer, I detest country music and I refruse—refuse to get breast implants.”

  Nick lowered his eyes, his gaze drifting over her body. She instinctively started to withdraw, then stopped. What would Elise do? Let him look. She shifted on the stool, sitting a little straighter to give him a better view.

  His tone was intimate and approving when he spoke. “Your breasts are just fine.”

  His smooth hands would rub and stroke her sensitive flesh. He’d cup the weight of them in his palms and brush the pad of his thumb over her nipples…

  “I’m glad you like them.” She nodded her head. And kept nodding. Anxiety built inside her as she tried to focus. She poked herself in the nose before remembering she didn’t have on her glasses. Okay. Here goes. I’m gonna ask him.

  “What’s on your mind, Trouble? You’ve got a dangerous gleam in your eyes.”

  She was taking an incredible chance, one that might leave her vulnerable and embarrassed. However, drunken impulse won over sober caution. She wrapped her palm over his hand and guided it onto her thigh.

  Nick’s fingers gripped her leg involuntarily and his pupils dilated with interest. When he didn’t remove his hand, she took a gulp of breath and blurted out her proposition.

  “I want hot, sweaty, mindless sex. And I want it with you.”

  6

  I open to the fierce passion of his kiss. His lips are hot, his tongue clever. The kiss exhilarates me, ignites me, sets my soul on fire.

  SHE GRINNED as Nick took a sharp breath, then snapped his mouth shut. His expression was both stunned and intrigued.

  She was a very bad girl. Meghan slid off the bar stool to stand between his muscular thighs and he caught her about the waist. She liked the way his hands felt. They were strong and steady, while hers seemed to belong to someone else.

  She watched her fingers comb through his dark hair. It felt as soft and silky as it looked. She drew her hands over the back of his head and under his jaw. Pressing herself closer to his splayed thighs, she rubbed against the button fly of his jeans.

  She wanted him. Now. But a little more enthusiasm on his part would be nice.

  “Come on, Nick. Let’s get crazy naked.”

  She felt him shiver as she whispered in his ear. His fingers flexed once then relaxed. When he looked at her, his expression was a mixture of regret and concern. “Why don’t I take you up to your room?”

  She began shaking her head, but stopped abruptly. It made her dizzy. “No, no, no. That’s so predictable.” The last thing she wanted was vanilla sex. Give me Rocky Road, baby. With whipped cream on top. “I wanna be wild and reckless.”

  Lust and alcohol coursed through her bloodstream. The alcohol caused her to slur her words. The lust inspired her to grab his hands and guide them around to her rear end.

  “Wild and reckless, huh?” He gently stroked his fingers over her hips and sighed loudly. “You’re killing me, Trouble.”

  She swayed before catching herself, placing one palm on his chest for balance. “So, are we gonna boink or what?”

  Nick’s gaze reflected his indecision, but his tone of voice was resigned. “Meghan, I think maybe we should—”

  “No! No thinking. I wanna make love on the sand, with the waves crashing over us, just like in the movies.”

  She broke away from him and tripped toward the edge of the patio. Thinking of Elise, she threw back her head and smiled, her posture both an invitation and a challenge. With a come-hither look, Meghan crooked her index finger.

  “Catch me if you can.”

  She pulled off her sandals and staggered toward the beach on unsteady legs. The sand beneath her feet felt as cool as the breeze blowing off the water. Checking over one shoulder, she saw Nick was rapidly gaining on her. His long stride more than matched her stumbling gait.

  Breathless and laughing, she dropped her shoes when he caught her as she splashed into ankle-deep water. He grasped her shoulders and spun her into his arms. She rested her head against his chest, looking out at the horizon and listening to the beat of his heart. Moonlight danced on the incoming waves like stars scattered on the ocean.

  Nick’s left hand stroked her back while his right slid up to cradle her neck. The gentle massage made her tremble with desire. Her breasts ached, the nipples tight and throbbing where they made contact with his chest. She nuzzled her cheek against his palm and pressed her body closer to his. Feeling the hard ridge of his erection, need overwhelmed her.

  Yes. It was finally going to happen. Her From Here to Eternity fantasy was going to come true. Yes, yes, yes.

  She tilted her head back to look up at him. His dark hair was disheveled from the wind. The moon cast alternating light and shadows over his face, making his green eyes appear dark as jade and bringing his cheekbones into stark relief. She thought there ought to be a law against a man having such wide, full, sexy lips. I want him and I’m going to have him.

  “I’m not frigid and I can prove it.”

  “Never thought you were—”

  His voice caught when she rubbed her pelvis against his, the buttons on her dress catching on the placket of his zipper. He groaned when she skimmed her hands over his hips to fondle his tush and then he lowered his head.

  She felt his breath mingle with hers and her eyes drifted shut. She waited eagerly for the first touch of his lips. A second passed, a lifetime seemed to follow it. The prolonged anticipation was almost unbearable.

  Meghan opened her eyes to find him gazing at her with an unexpected tenderness. His soft fingers lightly grazed her cheek, as if memorizing the contours.

  “Um. That feels real nice, Nick, but don’t you wanna kiss me?”

  “More than you know. Much more than I should.”

  He cupped her face between his palms. When he brushed his mouth slowly, so slowly, over her lips, she feared she might lose her heart. When his mouth finally covered hers, she feared for her soul.

  She closed her eyes again and her knees went weak at the sweet thrill of his touch. His gentle kiss was like a whispered promise. The tip of his tongue traced her upper lip, flicked over the lower, before slipping inside.

  She returned the kiss, deepened it, faintly tasting tobacco and cinnamon when she explored his mouth. He angled his head to one side, doing some very interesting things with his tongue. Which did very interesting things to every nerve in her body.

  He spread one palm across the small of her back, holding her against him. She moaned, pressing forward to rub one thigh between his legs as her panties grew damp. Her hips began to sway in an age-old rhythm. Hot flames danced through her, making her breasts tingle and her skin itch.

  This was better than any fantasy she could write.

  The universe seemed to have narrowed to just the two of them. The world was spinning. Her head was spinning along with it. She felt disoriented and breathless. A warm, inviting fog grew in her mind, beckoning her into the darkness. She drew away and tried to focus on Nick’s face, but her vision blurred until everything went black.

  MEGHAN SLID out of his arms and co
llapsed into the shallow surf. He’d been so into that kiss, it took a second before Alex realized what had happened.

  He gripped her under the arms, pulling her farther up the beach. Kneeling, he bent over to make sure she was still breathing. Her heartbeat was rapid, but the pulse in her throat felt strong beneath his fingers. He swept the wet tendrils off her brow and brushed some sand from her cheek.

  Trouble was out like a light.

  Damn. It wasn’t like he’d planned to take advantage of her while she was drunk. But he had a healthy ego and a normal libido. Any man would find it difficult to turn down a proposition like hers. If she hadn’t passed out, he would have been sorely tempted to fulfill her fantasy of sex on the beach—and a few others.

  He reached over to get her shoes before lifting her into his arms. Rising to his feet, he adjusted her dead weight and held her securely against his chest. The heat of her inert body penetrated his shirt through the dampness of her clothes.

  He began walking back toward the resort. How the hell was he going to carry an unconscious woman through the lobby? Her sister must have seen them through the border of palms because Julie suddenly appeared at his side.

  “Hey! What happened? Is she okay?”

  “Too many of those frozen drinks. She’ll be fine, but we need to get her back to her room.”

  Julie lifted Meghan’s limp arm, crossed it over her body, and tucked her hand against Alex’s side. “I hope she’s all right.”

  He glanced down at Meghan while shifting her weight again. She had yet to move a muscle. “Nothing some sleep and a few aspirins won’t cure.”

  “I really appreciate your help….” She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  “Um, Nick. Nick Alexander.”

  A grin spread across Julie’s face while she eyed him up and down. “So, you’re the pirate. Hallelujah and pass the breath mints.”

  “Huh?” His brows drew together in bewilderment.

  “Nothing, nothing. I can’t leave the party right now. Will you take her upstairs?”

  “Sure. Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to her.”