She accepted the helmet, latched it under her chin, and then walked around to the left-hand side of the bike. She climbed on lithely, then wrapped her arms around his waist.
“You’ve ridden before,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone, very businesslike. Obviously the fact that she’d gotten on the correct side had tipped him off.
“Yep,” she answered.
“Where to?”
She didn’t deliberate long. Her apartment was on Merritt Island, only five minutes away. But she didn’t want to return to her place. It wasn’t unusual for Jonathan to bring home the party, and she definitely wasn’t in the mood for socializing. Besides, they were over. She’d warned him. “Head toward the beach. I’ll tell you when we get there.”
He shrugged. “Okay. I was heading that way anyway.”
Nicky held onto the stranger’s waist as he carefully drove out of the parking lot, nothing like Jonathan would have.
He was handsome. He had one of those faces that was just pleasant to look at, one that you couldn’t help but trust. His face was round and kind looking with a tiny cleft in his chin. He didn’t smile much, but the one time he almost did, when she’d asked for a ride, she could see the semblance of a dimple on his cheek. His hair was sandy brown and his eyes a deep hazel. He was taller than she was, too, and that was saying a lot. A little overdressed, though. Why would anyone go out on a Saturday night in dress pants and a button-down collared shirt and tie? And on a motorcycle, nonetheless.
Damp air from the Banana River whipped at her arms and legs as they passed over the causeway heading toward Cocoa Beach. She definitely wasn’t dressed to ride. Even the warm August evening felt chilly on the back of a bike going sixty. She crouched lower, an attempt to block the wind. Without thinking, she tightened her grip on his waist, seeking warmth.
He retracted one hand from the bar, doing his best to cover her arms with his arm. She melted at the notion. He was considerate.
When they stopped at the intersection of 520 and A1A, he asked, “Where to?”
Nicky glanced in both directions. “Um, take a left and head toward Port Canaveral.” She hadn’t thought this far ahead, but suddenly she knew exactly what she wanted to do. Something she hadn’t done since she was seventeen.
As he coasted to a stop at a red light, she tapped on his shoulder and pointed to a liquor store. “Can we stop?”
He shrugged and pulled into the parking lot.
She jumped off the bike, ran into the store, and bought a pint-sized bottle of Jim Beam. Next, she ran across the street instead of returning to his bike, motioning for him to follow. Thankfully, he did. She purchased two super-sized cherry Slurpees and asked the cashier to put them in a paper bag.
After climbing back on the bike, she gave him directions. “You know where the road splits off to the right from A1A?”
He nodded. “North Atlantic Avenue.”
“Yeah … I guess so.”
He looked over his shoulder at her as if questioning her sanity, and in a way, he was right. She’d just jumped on the back of a motorcycle of a complete stranger. Albeit, a very good-looking stranger. She was going to start putting forth her new life, taking what she wanted for once. And right now, she wanted to go to the beach, get drunk, and wash away her sorrows for at least one night.
She smiled at him. “Take that road and then turn right on the fourth street until it ends.”
“It ends at the beach,” he replied in the same cool manner that he’d used for everything he’d said and done so far.
CHAPTER TWO
Cameron pulled into the beachside park and stopped his bike next to the crosswalk that led to the Atlantic.
“Have you ever been here?” the waitress asked.
He knocked down his kickstand with his boot. “Yeah.”
She hopped off the back of his bike. “I used to come here when I was a little girl. I thought the name of the park was Cherry Down when actually it is Cherie Down Park. When I was seventeen, my friends and I would hang out down here. We started drinking Jim Beam in cherry Slurpees so the cops wouldn’t know we were drinking. I named them Cherry Downs.”
The girl started walking toward the beach, so like an imbecile he climbed off his bike and followed. She crossed over the boardwalk, then walked north a little farther, and again, he followed.
About fifty feet away, she plopped down on the sand, pulled out the bottle of bourbon, and took a few gulps of the Slurpee. “Ooh, head rush,” she giggled.
He approached her, but not sure what to do next, he remained standing. He couldn’t very well leave her here alone on the beach. Why had she asked him to bring her here? She reached up and grabbed his hand, pulling him down in the sand.
“Are you afraid to get your pants sandy?” she asked, a sudden chirp in her voice. He would have thought for sure that she’d been on the verge of tears at the club where she worked. Not knowing how to answer that silly question, he just shook his head. No, he wasn’t afraid to get sand on his pants, but … he was also dressed in work clothes, not the way he usually dressed for the beach. Thankfully, the ground was cool, but not wet yet from the mist coming off the water.
“What’s your name, anyway?” she asked.
“Cameron.”
“You don’t talk much, do you, Cameron?”
He shrugged. “Not unless I have something to say. What’s your name?”
“Everyone calls me Nicky.”
“What’s your name?” he repeated.
“I just told you.”
“No, you didn’t. You said everyone calls you Nicky, which means that Nicky is short for something.”
“Alexandra Nicole,” she said on a sigh, turning her gaze away from him and looking out at the ocean.
He leaned in front of her to get her attention back on him. “Why are we here, Alexandra? Where do you live?” Cameron knew this couldn’t end well. What was this woman thinking?
“Merritt Island,” she answered in a soft voice, barely a whisper.
“What?” he shrieked. “Why did you — you expect me to drive you back to Merritt Island?” This definitely couldn’t end well. What in the world was this girl thinking?
Alexandra looked down at the bag in her lap. “I don’t expect anything from you, Cameron.”
She poured the bourbon into the Slurpee and handed him the cup.
He shook his head. “I don’t drink.”
“At all?” Her inflection gave away her shock at finding out someone wouldn’t drink. He guessed working in a bar could cause a person to think that.
“At all,” he answered again.
Leaning back into the sand, she shrugged and took a long swig.
Cameron sat without uttering a word, watching the surf pound the beach. He loved the sound. Many a night he enjoyed walking to the beach and just lying back on the sand, drowning himself in the sounds of the ocean.
Alexandra was a mystery. What in the world was she doing here with him, a complete stranger? And why was he with her? She wasn’t his type at all; she was entirely out of his league in many ways. She was too pretty, too tall, too friendly. For being so tall, though, she sure had a knockout figure. She had to be five-eight or five-nine, but her body … she looked like a real-life Barbie doll. Her hair was golden blond with soft curls, the kind of hair women spent a fortune to achieve, but hers looked natural. And it was long. Even pulled up it came halfway down her back.
Not that any of that mattered, because he didn’t date. And even if he did date, she certainly wouldn’t be interested in him. He had to know what she was thinking. Why she was here. “Alexandra, why did you get on the back of my bike?”
Her eyebrows furrowed as she turned to look at him, contemplating his question, it seemed. “I’m angry at my boyfriend. Why do you insist on calling me Alexandra when I told you my name is Nicky?”
Figures. He knew she couldn’t have been interested. Not that he wanted her interest … he didn’t want to date anyone, he reminded himself. “What does your boy
friend call you?”
“My name. Nicky,” she bit out.
“I prefer Alexandra.”
She sighed loudly, then turned her attention back to the soft crashing waves hitting the beach in a consistent rhythm.
He stood up and extended his hand to her. “Come on, let me take you home.”
She wrapped her fingers around his hand and warmth surged through him. “I don’t want to go home, Cameron. Please sit. Stay here with me for just a little bit.”
This couldn’t be happening. The way she said his name sent a thrill through his body. He didn’t need this. She pulled back her hand and picked up her drink. He sat back down and watched as she sucked down the final sips of the Slurpee, then pulled the bottle of bourbon back out, pouring several shots into the second cherry-flavored drink. He definitely didn’t need this. He already had one problem at home.
Alexandra turned to him, her eyes already glassy from the first drink, which was really more like four drinks. No way would she be able to hold onto him for a return ride to Merritt Island. She looked as though she would pass out at any minute.
She leaned toward him. He could see what she wanted, and he wasn’t about to succumb. He didn’t need some scorned woman using him. She inched her body closer, obviously cold in her little outfit and downing a frozen drink.
Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around her. She sighed, and he couldn’t help but feel the warmth emanating between them. She looked up at him, and her lips were inches from his, smelling of cherry and sweet bourbon. He wanted this, too. No, he didn’t, he tried to convince himself.
“Alexandra, please.”
“What? Am I not pretty enough, or do you have a girlfriend?”
He huffed out a breath, shaking his head at her absurd question. Of course, she was pretty, and she obviously knew it. He felt no need to confirm her ridiculous question. “I don’t date. And I’m not interested in being used.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I already told you. I don’t want anything from you, Cameron. I can call a taxi.”
Her eyes — glassy from drink or tears, he wasn’t sure — sparkled in the moonlight. The smell of the salty air mixed with her hair that smelled like coconut and the essence of smoke from the bar. The bouquet all converged with her scent to create a sensual aroma.
Unable to restrain his impulse to kiss those full lips that would taste like cherry, he pulled her closer. She lifted her face to his, her lips slightly parted, inviting him in. He pressed his lips to hers, and she reacted instantly. It was the alcohol, he knew, the un-inhibitor, the aphrodisiac of all drugs. But she felt incredible. His mouth moved over hers, testing, experimenting. His tongue tasted her, delighting in the warmth and sweetness, and he wanted more.
He pulled back first, though. This was wrong.
She rested her hand on his chest. “Where do you live, Cameron?”
He sucked in a breath. “A block away.”
“Will you take me home?” Those blue eyes gazed up at him, making him believe she wanted him. He reminded himself it was just the alcohol. She had a boyfriend. She was out of his league. And he didn’t date.
His common sense took control, allowing him to shake his head. “To my house? No.”
“Why?” Her one-word question came out sultry, beautiful, causing his not-so-sensible self to doubt his words.
He closed his eyes, shutting off his view. “Because you’re drunk.”
Her hand moved from his chest to his shoulder. “I’m not that drunk. I know I’m with you, Cameron, the man who stuck up for me and then drove me to where I wanted to go.”
She was just mad at her boyfriend, he reminded himself. She didn’t want to be with him. “But whom do you want to be with?” he couldn’t help but ask.
“You.”
His heart melted. He knew it wasn’t true. And yet, he didn’t know how to say no. He stood again, this time pulling her up beside him. Drawing her close, he wrapped his arms completely around her. She fit perfectly. Like no woman had ever fit before. He was tall, but he’d always preferred petite women, but Alexandra folded nicely into his arms. He merely had to tilt her head a fraction to kiss her.
Their lips met again, and liquid heat soared through his body. He didn’t want a one-night stand. Was it possible that she could be the one? The one he’d bargained for? He hadn’t been with a woman in so long. He had enough troubles with the one he had at home.
He leaned back to look at her again. “Will you be able to hold on if I take you home?”
“Your home?”
“No. Yours.”
“I don’t want to go home, so, no,” she responded like a scorned child.
He let out a shaky breath. “Why are you doing this to me, Alexandra?”
“Because you keep calling me Alexandra. Call me Nicky, and I’ll tell you where I live.”
He pulled her back across the boardwalk, handed her his helmet again, and then crossed his leg over the bike. Without a second’s hesitation, she hopped on behind him, wrapping her arms tighter around his waist, burying her head into his neck.
His condo was only a block away. He would let her sleep this off and then take her home in the morning.
Cameron pulled into the parking lot of his condo and parked his bike directly outside his door. He had an end unit, so the neighbors didn’t complain.
He tapped in his entry code on the keypad, then allowed her to enter first.
Alexandra immediately went to the sliding glass doors at the rear of the living room. “Wow. You live here alone?” She opened the door, allowing the salty air to whip through the house. “This is … incredible!” She stepped out onto the lanai that overlooked the Atlantic. “We didn’t need to go to Cherie Down; this is beautiful. Do you live by yourself?” she asked again.
“No. My mother lives here, but she’s away.”
“Wow … what does she do for a living?”
He sighed at her conjecture. “She lives with me; I don’t live with her.”
“Oh.” She plopped down on one of the chaises. “What do you do for a living, then?”
Following her outside, he sat across from her. “Promise you won’t laugh or smirk?”
She laughed. “Oops. I promise I won’t laugh again.”
“I’m a car salesman.”
“Oh … what’s so funny about that?”
He looked toward the beachside, not wanting to make eye contact with those beautiful sapphire orbs of hers. “Nothing. But people are always making jokes and sneering when they find out what I do. But I’m good at it. It’s not all I do, though. It just passes the time.”
“What else do you do? You don’t sell drugs, do you?”
He shook his head and huffed out a breath. “Of course not. Why in the world would you ask that?”
She shrugged.
He didn’t want to get into what he did. Most women were bored anyway. He usually didn’t even admit that the condo was his. But for some reason, he wanted to impress Alexandra. As if it mattered. Tomorrow she’d be gone. She was still out of his league.
He stood up. “I’ll get you something to wear and sheets for the sofa.” He left her on the porch and walked back into the house. After a second, though, he realized she was behind him. Attempting to ignore her, he entered his bedroom. His room also overlooked the beachside.
Alexandra followed him into his room and went directly to the sliders again. After opening them, she crawled up on his bed and stared toward the ocean as if a million miles away, lost in a distant dream.
He pulled a large t-shirt out of his dresser, handed it to her, and then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. A beautiful woman was sprawled across his king-sized bed, and he was brushing his teeth. Never had he imagined when he ventured out with the guys after work that this is where his evening would end up. Should he sleep on the sofa? He didn’t even know this woman.
After brushing his teeth, he pulled an extra set of sheets out of the linen closet, then headed toward his bedro
om door.
Alexandra quickly sat up, pulling one of the pillows onto her lap. “Hey, where’re you going?”
“To the sofa.”
“Cameron, please don’t leave. Please come here,” she whispered.
He shook his head. “I can’t do this, Alexandra.”
“Call me Nicky, and then you can leave.”
His heart pounded at the idea that she was someone else’s woman. “I can’t do that either.” It was stupid, but it’s what he called her, and he didn’t want her to think about anyone but him right now. He wondered what her boyfriend looked like. If she was Barbie, he was certainly Ken. What chance did he stand? He didn’t want a chance, he insisted, but his inner voice was getting weaker.
Alexandra scooted off the bed and crossed the room to where he was still standing, stupidly holding sheets so that he could sleep on the sofa in his own house.
She pulled the sheets out of his hand and dropped them on the Berber carpet. Lifting his hand, she drew him toward the bed.
There was no way he was backing out. He knew this. And yet, he knew he needed to stop. He shadowed her back to the bed, followed her body down to the mattress.
Once again, his mouth captured hers, and it was all over. He wanted her. It had been so long. He’d promised himself that he would never make love to a woman who wasn’t his wife ever again. But Alexandra was a goddess. Her beauty, her body, and her scent had all enraptured him. And tomorrow, she would disappear, like a mirage, an imagined fantasy. He would be sorry tomorrow, but right now, she was his.
The next morning arrived, and Cameron watched as Alexandra sprung from his bed, pulled on her clothes, and ran out of his room.
He hadn’t allowed her to know that he was awake. She had been spooned up against him, her back toward him when he heard her gasp awake. The events of the previous evening penetrating her consciousness, no doubt. Now that she wasn’t drunk, she was certainly horror-struck about her actions and the fact she’d gone home with a stranger. He let her walk out the door.
CHAPTER THREE
Alexandra started awake, memories of the previous evening crashing into her mind. Had she really gone home with a stranger? And slept with him? She had never been with anyone other than Jonathan.
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