“When you get to your cabin, look on the post in the parking area. You’ll see the plug–in there. Would you like some help with your luggage?”
Shorts, bikinis and sundresses didn’t take up much luggage space so she declined any help. She hopped into her Hummer and headed off, using the resort map for guidance. Once she left the immediate area around the castle where the parking lots and drives were made of concrete, the roads turned to sand and crushed shell paths. She drew in deep breaths of salty air as she flew along toward her home for the next ten days.
The route to her cabana took her past the Beachfront Bar so she knew how to get back there tonight, which she definitely intended to do. She also passed a number of other individual oceanfront cabanas. She slowed as the cabin numbers reached the twenties, finally turning into the parking space for twenty–three.
For a minute she sat, stunned. The bluff exterior of the building was brightened with colorful tile inlays, a set of red double doors and a stone terrace that started at the building entrance and curved around the corner. The sound of waves crashing on shore confirmed what the clerk had told her. Her cabana was very near the ocean’s edge.
She slid from the cart and climbed the stairs. After waving her magnetic card in front of the reader, she heard the door lock snick back and she stepped into a room direct from her best fantasy.
A sweeping glass wall overlooked the terrace with its striped recliners and table with matching umbrella. Just beyond the stone wall that lined the veranda, the ocean rolled and crashed on shore.
Brightly colored furniture filled the living room but didn’t obstruct the view. The bedroom housed a king–sized, four–poster bed that faced another wall of glass that showcased the incredible ocean view.
Natalie fell onto the bed with a delighted laugh. Her mother had outdone herself this time.
Chapter Four
Brock had to admit he was impressed with his cabin. Modern, plush furniture in bright floral prints dominated a seating area that overlooked a stone terrace through a wall of glass. Beyond was the rolling sea. Of course he’d seen the ocean before but that had been Gulf Shores, Alabama. The waters of the Gulf of Mexico didn’t really compare to the Caribbean waters. Crashing waves in azure blue dragged at snow–white sand. Strong sun rays lit up the sand granules like a field of tiny diamonds.
His life had mostly been comprised of work. Growing up on a ranch meant he’d learned about hard work from the time he could ride his own horse. But since becoming mother and father to his siblings when he’d been just eighteen, his life had taken on whole new dimensions, such as trying to stretch minimal dollars to keep him and his siblings from losing the ranch, and keeping his brothers out of trouble, which was almost a fulltime job back when they were teens. Luxury like the one surrounding him was as foreign to him as ordering a cappuccino instead of coffee. Brock was not easily impressed–but damn. There was no way around it. He was totally awed by all this. In his wildest fantasies he hadn’t been expecting something like this.
He smiled. He loved that his three siblings had pulled together to pay for his vacation. But for the next ten days he had no responsibilities except to himself, and that felt a little surreal…kind of like this whole place. It’d been so long he hoped he remembered how to have fun.
After he unpacked, he took a long walk on the beach to stretch his legs, which weren’t used to being cramped up in a tiny airplane row for hours.
When he’d begun to pack for the trip, he’d realized his supply of nice shorts and shirts had been sorely lacking. That had been solved quickly when he took a giddy Lauren to the Crystal Lakes Mall and turned her loose. Now, as he dragged his feet through the wet sand at the ocean’s edge, he sported a crisp pair of khaki shorts and a new polo. He drew the line, however, at her suggestion of tank tops and flip–flops. By the sparkle in her eyes, he was pretty sure–not positive but pretty sure–she’d been kidding.
He said a quick prayer that they didn’t burn down the house while he was gone.
The walk, a shower and a quick nap took up most of his early evening. At eight–thirty, when he awoke, he remembered the check–in clerk handing him a piece of paper about a beach party tonight. He found the informational flyer on the kitchen bar. He had plenty of time to get there.
Fifteen minutes later he bounded down his steps and stopped alongside the Model–T electric car the resort had provided. He’d noted the bar today on his drive down to this cabin and he debated walking there. It had to be less than a mile. In the end, he opted to drive. No reason to get clean only to get sweaty again when he didn’t have to.
The music was loud and reverberating off the water as he drove up to the welcome party. At least a hundred guests mingled in the outdoor bar, spilling onto the beach. The full moon and stars glistened on the waves that continued their assault on the sand.
And women. Maybe it’d just been too long since he’d been with one, but everywhere he looked there was a beautiful woman.
Then one particular woman sent his heart into overdrive. Seated across the bar, she was in profile, but he remembered her from the Memphis airport and from check–in earlier. How could he miss her thick blonde hair spilling over her shoulders and down her back in waves? And her legs. Lordy. They went on for miles.
He made his way across the room, digging through his mental archives for a killer opening line. Gad. It’d been too long and his mind was a blank slate. As he neared, he could see the smile twitching on her lips. Then he noticed she was stabilizing her cellphone on the table and had it directed toward a male dancer dressed in a black Speedo and a Hawaiian shirt that been left open, exposing a couple of gold chains around his neck.
He bent to speak directly into her ear. “He just doesn’t look like your style.”
She jerked back, pummeling his nose with the back of her head. “Oh! Ouch,” she said, rubbing her head. An attractive pink tinge colored her cheeks. “I hope I didn’t break your nose.”
Worst opening line ever.
He rubbed this throbbing nose. “Not broken. Or at least, I don’t think so.”
“Um. Maybe you shouldn’t be sneaking up on women you don’t know,” she added.
He laughed. “We can fix that.” He held out his hand. “Brock Wade.”
When she took his hand, he realized how soft her fingers were, unlike his, which were callused and rough from the ranch work. He might have held on a little too long after she straightened her fingers to finish the introductory handshake but his flesh tingled from her touch and he was reluctant to end the connection.
“Natalie Diamond.” She smiled. “Are you sure I didn’t break your nose?”
“I’m sure. I’ve had worse hits from my horse.”
“So you are a cowboy.”
He dipped his head with a grin. Indicating the empty chair beside her, he asked. “May I?”
She shoved the chair out with her foot. “Please do.”
Sitting he said, “Got your eye on Mr. Speedo, do you?”
Her laugh hit him right in his gut with a solid punch. “He’s one of those things you can tell your friends about but without pictures nobody is going to believe you.”
“Get some good shots?”
She set her phone on the table, opened the camera app and they scrolled through her quick snaps. She’d caught him in glorious color.
“I need those for my sister,” he said. “She needs to see what kind of place she’s sent me to.”
Natalie snorted. “Forced vacation?”
“Sort of. Early Christmas present from my brothers and sister. You been here before?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Christmas present from my parents.”
“Seems we have a lot in common.”
“Families forcing us to take vacations for our own good?”
“Exactly,” he said, more than pleased they were on the same wavelength. “Your glass is empty.” He gestured toward her dry rocks glass on the table. “What are you drinking?”
“Maker’s Mark bourbon. Neat.”
He hiked an eyebrow at her choice of drink. Bourbon neat set him back and intrigued him. He couldn’t remember a date ever ordering bourbon and he loved the stuff. Usually he had to settle for a beer or wine to accommodate his date, but now?
“I believe I’ll join you. Another?”
“Please.”
He waved a harried cocktail waitress over and placed their orders. However, given the crowd, he ordered a double for each of them with a side order of ice. No worrying about ice melting, so they could drink at their leisure.
While they waited for their drinks, they discussed hometowns–Memphis, Tennessee for her and Crystal Lakes, Arkansas for him. Since he’d been to Memphis a time or two, they compared favorite restaurants, told some stories of famous person sightings there and debated if the next earthquake would wipe out the Mississippi riverfront.
Their drinks came. They tapped glasses and resumed their earthquake discussion. As the bottom of their drink glasses came into view, one of Brock’s favorite Garth Brooks songs started. It was slow and, in his opinion, perfect for a first dance with a fascinating woman.
“Dance?” He held out his hand. His question was met with a broad smile as she slipped her hand into his. That tingle from before started again, a ripple that initiated at their joined hands and rolled up his arm before moving through his entire body.
They walked from under the bar’s tiki–thatched roof and onto the sand. She kicked off her sandals, leaving them off to the side. He followed her lead, leaving his beside hers. He slipped his arms around her waist while she looped hers around his neck. Holding her snuggly against him, they began to move to the slow tempo of If Tomorrow Never Comes.
He drew in a deep breath, taking in the aroma of vanilla and oranges from the strands of her hair that’d landed under his nose. At six–foot–three–inches, Brock always had to bend a lot to accommodate dancing with most women. But not so with Natalie. Her head rested comfortably on his shoulder, and, for that, his back thanked God.
When she hummed quietly along with the tune, he pulled her tighter against him, insanely pleased that she knew the song, which was totally stupid on his part. Still, he tightened his hold, pressing her full breasts against his chest. His heart galloped a little faster and it wasn’t because of the song’s tempo. How crazy was it that here he was, thousands of miles from home, and the one woman who tripped his trigger lived only a little over four hours from him?
She had to know he was attracted. Hell, the evidence was cradled between them. Even as the thought occurred, he felt his cock growing harder, but she didn’t pull away. Instead she moved in, letting him know she knew.
Slipping his leg between hers, he moved her slowly around the sandy dance area. Sadly, he knew the song well enough to recognize the final musical notes.
The next song had an upbeat tempo which didn’t require holding on to Natalie and, damn, he hated the feeling of separation as he pulled his arms away. She seemingly felt the same as her limbs untwined slowly from him. As they moved apart, she gave him a smile that sent all his blood rushing from his head to below his waist, then she laughed and whirled around, shaking her luscious booty to the beat of the music.
Brock laughed and danced, two actions that’d been sorely lacking in his life for years. But this woman made him feel like he was eighteen again, with his whole life ahead of him, instead of a thirty–two–year–old man with all his family obligations.
The next couple of songs were fast but as soon as the slow tempo of Let’s Make Love started, they moved together as though drawn by magnets. As they wrapped arms around each other, he danced her off into an area with less lighting. Her head rested on his shoulder, her breaths puffing soft caresses of air on his neck. He wanted to kiss her. Hell, needed to kiss her, but he wasn’t sure how she would react.
Nonetheless, as they reached a shadowed spot, he lifted her chin until their gazes met. Her breath caught as she looked into his eyes. He leaned forward and gave her a soft kiss. When she didn’t pull away, he went back for a second and then a third taste of her mouth. As their lips met for the third time, she moved closer and her mouth opened slightly. Brock took advantage to sweep his tongue through the opening and into the heat of her mouth.
They shared breaths as the kiss got deeper and wetter until he finally pulled away and rested his forehead on hers.
“Damn, woman.” His heart kicked like a mule against his chest. “Your mouth is like a drug. I can’t get enough.”
He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, threaded his fingers into her satiny hair and sealed his lips to hers again. At the same time, he walked her backwards, deeper into the dark niche he’d found for them.
Natalie’s legs quaked with nervous sexual attraction, so weak she feared they wouldn’t hold her upright. Brock Wade’s kisses were like sin and heaven rolled into one. His tongue slipped into her mouth to stroke and taste everywhere. Their tongues twisted together, their individual tastes mingled until Natalie wasn’t sure where she stopped and Brock started.
She let him back her into a dark corner, fully aware of what she was doing. Fun Natalie was in control now, completely shutting down any possible protests from Accountant Natalie. The area between her thighs grew hot and swollen with unresolved arousal. A whirl of heavy–duty lust spun in her gut and she pressed her achy sex against his hard cock.
Finally, sanity forced its way to her brain’s forefront. What was she doing? She barely knew this guy and yet her body burned with need for him. She hadn’t had sex since her divorce two years ago. She wanted sex. She missed it. Craved it. Wasn’t that what she promised herself? A wild and crazy time?
But she didn’t know this guy.
Her body didn’t seem to mind that fact, but still…
She lost her train of thought as he ran the tip of his tongue around the rim of her ear, then down the large tendon in her neck. He worked his way back up with kisses and nibbles. Chills marched down her spine, as fire leapt from nerve ending to nerve ending.
Grabbing his ass with both hands, she pulled his hardness against her. His butt was tight and firm and, heavens, she wanted to touch the flesh there.
His hand slid up her ribs until it brushed the underside of her breast. She moaned low in her throat and fought the urge to shift until his palm covered her breast completely.
From somewhere deep inside, she found the resolve to stop this. She was minutes from screwing him right here on the beach within feet of other people.
She moved her hands to his waist and pushed him a couple of steps back until they were no longer touching.
“I’m sorry,” he said with a strained voice. “I totally lost my mind.”
She smiled and realized their breaths were coming in heavy pants. “Yeah. I know what you mean.” Taking another step backwards she said, “It’s late. I was up early this morning and I think my brain is a little fried.”
He nodded. “Me too. Can I walk you to your car?”
“I’d like that.”
They found their shoes and walked to the small sandy parking area.
“This is me,” Natalie said, stopping alongside her miniature Hummer.
Brock chuckled. “Cute.” Hiking his thumb toward a black Model–T, he said, “I’m the black truck.”
Natalie gave a little laugh. “I do love these cars. What a clever way to get around the resort.”
“I agree.”
They stood facing each other for a minute, both waiting for a signal from the other. Finally Natalie said, “It’s late. I’d better go.”
Her heart sank in disappointment. She didn’t really want to go, even though her rational mind knew it was the right thing to do. She wanted him to ask her to stay a little longer or maybe dip his head down and give her another of those kisses that made her toes curl.
“Okay. Thanks for the dance.” Brock took a tiny step toward his car.
“My pleasure.” She slid onto the seat of
her electric car.
“Natalie.” His deep voice rattled in his chest, and sent an arrow of lust into her gut.
She looked up at him.
“Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
Her toes curled as her mouth turned up into a grin. “I’d love to.”
His face lit up with a smile. “Great. Here? Seven?”
She nodded. That sounded safe. A public place just in case he was a serial killer or something. If she’d learned nothing else from her past two years of singlehood, she knew it was smart to meet strange men in public places.
He leaned in and kissed her. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
Natalie backed out of her space and headed for her cabin. In the rearview mirror she watched Brock climb into his electric truck and pull in behind her. He followed her until she pulled over to the side.
“Are you following me?” she asked with a grin.
“I’m not, but where are you going? What cabin are you in?”
“Twenty–three. Where are you?”
“Twenty–one. Seems we’re neighbors.”
“Race you home,” she said, and slammed her pedal to the floor. The Hummer leapt forward and charged down the lane. Behind her, she could hear Brock’s laughter.
Chapter Five
Brock rolled over in bed, his internal alarm going off at its usual four a.m. The darkness of outside filled the slit in the drapes. He shut his eyes but they popped back open. Years of habit were impossible to break overnight. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and looked at the clock. Caribbean time was an hour later so it was actually five instead of four. He threw on a pair of jogging shorts, a T–shirt and his running shoes and headed for the road. At home most of his exercise came from the daily ranch grind and he missed the simple joy of running.
The crunch of shoes in the sand of the unpaved road broke the quiet of the morning. A smile crept onto his lips as Natalie Diamond jogged up.
“You’re up early,” he said.
“I could say the same about you.” She continued to jog in place as she spoke.
Brought to His Knees-Tough Guys Laid Low By Love Page 33
