Down for the Count (6 page)

She lifted her hands to cross them over her midsection again, but then froze, letting them drop to her sides. Sucking in a deep breath, she nodded, then snagged the cover-up. “I’ll try,” she said, and folded it into a neat little square before setting it on her chair.

His little head thanked him for the return of the visual smorgasbord while his big head cursed him for not minding his own damned business. He’d put himself in a terrible spot here. Sure, he wanted to make her feel better, but at this rate, he was going to have a
Guinness Book
–worthy case of blue balls.

“Want to go for a swim?” he asked, more out of self-preservation than anything. Cold water would be a godsend right now.

“I do, but most of my skin hasn’t seen the sun since summer, and some of these parts have
never
seen it.” She gestured to the smooth expanse of flat stomach. “I’ve got to slather on SPF five thousand until I get a base tan.”

He jammed a hand into the duffel bag he’d packed and pulled out the bottle of sunscreen.

“Smart thinking.” Only now he had to watch her apply it. He tossed it to her, and then settled back against the chair as if he were going to relax a while. As she uncapped the bottle and poured some lotion into her palm, he pinched his eyes closed. He would
not
think about her working that lotion over his cock until he came. He would
not
imagine bending her over and massaging it into her ass cheeks, his fingers trailing closer and closer to the heat between her thighs until she begged for more. He would not look, because that would only make it w—

His lids lifted of their own accord, and he heard himself ask, “Do you need help with your back?”

“Nope, I already got it. I do yoga so I’m super flexible.”

He bit back a groan. He definitely could’ve done without that little nugget of information. Now not only could he visualize them having wild monkey sex, he could also imagine doing it in some very creative positions.

She turned and jogged toward the ocean. He found himself mesmerized by the swing of her hips. “You coming?” she called over her shoulder.

Not yet, but that could be arranged in short order.

Damn, he was a perv. He really needed to do something about that. “Right behind you.”

She stopped at the edge of the water and dipped a careful toe in. Then she ran straight into the spray with reckless abandon, her delighted laughter spurring him to his feet. He covertly adjusted his man-junk as best he could and stood. There were at least a dozen other women reclined on colorful beach towels, similarly clothed, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Lacey.

By the time he reached the water, she was submerged up to her neck. He thanked God for small favors. The cool ocean lapped at his ankles as he watched her swim. Behind her, a monster wave was swelling. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Incoming!”

She turned her head and squealed, paddling toward him. At first he thought she was afraid and started toward her, but then he realized she was laughing. Right as the wave crested, she stretched her arms straight in front of her and came blasting his way, skimming across the top of the water like she was resting on a surfboard. The immense power of the ocean and the exhilaration on her face sent his heart pounding. The wave finally deposited her in a heap at his feet. The back of her white bikini bottoms was covered in mud and her top was…

Gone.

“That was so much fun. Come do one with me!” She was lying in the shallow water on her stomach and rose to a kneel before he could stop her. Her full breasts were streaked with wet sand, but it didn’t hide the twin hard peaks beckoning him. The blood drained from his brain, all headed south, and words wouldn’t come. He did manage to step closer, blocking her from the sun worshippers on the shore behind him.

Her smile dimmed. “What’s the matter? You don’t like salt water?”

“I like it fine.” His voice was gritty and he cleared his throat. “But you need to get back all the way in and lie on your stomach.”

She shot him a puzzled glance and then followed his gaze downward. Letting out a strangled “
Gack!”
she didn’t so much lay back down as she did pitch forward into the shallow water, flat on her face. She came up sputtering and spat out a mouthful of sand before slapping her hands over her breasts. Frantically, she squirmed toward deeper water, but down two working appendages and fighting the incoming waves, she wasn’t getting anywhere.

A child’s giggles broke the spell Lacey’s naked breasts had weaved over him, and he realized a family was entering the water right next to them. Dropping to his knees in front of her, he tugged her up into an embrace, pressing her chest to his. “Wrap your arms around me,” he said against her ear. “I’m going to stand and carry you out farther so no one can see you. Then, I’m going to go back to shore and get your cover-up, all right?”

She burrowed her head into the crook of his neck and nodded. There was a long pause and then she released her breasts to snake her arms around his neck. He sucked in a breath as her softness smashed against his hardness. The cool slide of her skin against his sent a sizzle of lust through him, so strong he nearly toppled over.

“This is so mortifying. This is why I don’t do anything wild or crazy. I suck at it. One bikini in my whole life and look what happens. Even when we were young, your sister used to say I was the kiss of death because whenever she convinced me to do something fun, I always ended up getting us caught or screwing it up somehow.”

He focused on her panicked babbling and clutched her thighs to stabilize her, forcing his feet to propel them forward.

“You okay? Am I too heavy?”

“Nope, I needed to adjust my grip, is all.” He stood, lifting her with him, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He hadn’t thought that far ahead and groaned as her thighs straddled him, lining her pubic bone directly against the throbbing heat of his dick. She stiffened in his arms and gasped, the babbling coming to a screeching halt. His starving brain cast around fruitlessly for another way to carry her, but this was the only way to preserve her modesty, which in turn obliterated his.

When the water was deep enough to swim in, the strength of the waves began to rock her body against his in a torturous rhythm. The need to rock back, grinding into her softness, was so strong he had to stop for a second and get a grip. That’s when he felt it. The subtle shift of her hips as her body pressed closer, pulsing against his, as if driven by instinct. She clutched at his shoulders, burrowing closer, her nipples pebbling against his chest. The blast of want hit him so hard, he had to grit his teeth to keep from groaning.

Clutching at her thighs, he anchored her still. “Stop wriggling,” he said. His voice was low, gruff, and strained.

She froze. “S-sorry.”

The warm puff of air against his ear and the break in her voice almost threw him right over the edge. What would Little Lacey Garrity do if he stripped aside those tiny bikini bottoms and buried himself in her again and again until she screamed?

Not the plan, asshole.

He took a steadying breath and strode purposefully into the surf, reciting his times tables as he went. He wouldn’t think about how soft her breasts were, pillowed against him. Or how her tight little nipples were branding his chest. Or how they’d looked in the morning sunshine, pouty, glistening with ocean water, begging for his tongue.

“Okay, good enough,” he announced abruptly, and released her, stepping back like she was on fire.

She covered her breasts again, dipping low until she was immersed in the blue water.

He averted his gaze and cleared his throat. “We’re the only ones out this far, so if you turn to face the open ocean, no one will see,” he said, his voice almost guttural now. Too bad. He didn’t want to shock her, but he was only flesh and blood, and there was nothing he could do about it.

She didn’t respond to his suggestion and wouldn’t look at him.

“Lacey?” Still nothing. Shit. She was upset. He struggled to find words over the cacophony of his roaring libido. “It’s no big deal. Don’t let this derail you. You came here to let loose, to get away from the drama at home. Now you have a funny story to tell.” He tipped her chin so she had no choice but to look at him. “Talk to me, squirt.”

When she finally met his gaze, he wished she hadn’t. Her pupils were dilated, her nostrils flaring lightly as she struggled for air. The pulse in her neck fluttered, and he stared at it, overcome with the desire to close his teeth over the delicate skin there. The adrenaline rush of the situation may have intensified her feelings, but one thing was clear that hadn’t been the night before. Her body’s reaction to him wasn’t a fluke. She was as hot for him as he was for her.

Bad news for Lacey because, up until that moment, he’d relegated himself to the role of unofficial guardian. But now that he knew the vibe he’d felt from her last night was more than just the alcohol and stress of the situation—now that he knew she wanted him for real?

It was on.

Chapter Five

“You’re a married woman,” she told herself. “At least until the annulment.” Lacey watched her reflection, waiting for it to roll its eyes at her stern reminder.

She muffled a groan. Crap. She was in big trouble. No. Huge, ginormous, major trouble, because she was madly in lust with her best friend’s brother and it was so not okay. She bent at the waist and rubbed the towel vigorously over her hair. Just the feel of Galen’s hard body against hers had her senses rioting in a way that even the whole tamale with Marty hadn’t. If she wasn’t sure she’d made a mistake in her choice of husbands before, she was sure of it now.

Was that what it was supposed to feel like? Wild and crazy and like you would do anything…anything at all for another taste? Or was it the sand and sun coupled with her first taste of real freedom? She’d had some during college, but since her parents had insisted she go to a posh school only forty minutes from home, even that had been tempered by their influence. Now she was free to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, and there was no one to judge her for it.

Except Galen.

She straightened and hung the towel on the hook behind her. Somehow, despite the jabs they’d exchanged over the years, she got the distinct feeling they were in a judgment-free zone. She could act a fool, and he would stand back, watch, and smile. She could drink and dance and act crazy, and he’d be fine with that. Was his only motive to try and help her through this transition, encouraging her to let go a little and enjoy this trip? Or was there more to it? If the hot ridge in his bathing suit had been any indication, she would have to guess the latter.

She suppressed a shiver and tugged her dress over her head. Why now? Why after all these years had he finally decided to notice her?

“Save me some hot water,” he called through the door.

If she’d had the balls he gave her credit for, she would’ve suggested he join her next time. But she didn’t, and she wouldn’t. Instead she smoothed the skirt of her cotton sundress and opened the door. “I’ve been out for ten minutes now. I was getting changed.” She stepped into the bedroom and gestured to the bathroom door. “It’s all yours. Make sure you wipe out the drain when you’re done. And hang up your towel.”

He smirked and flicked a lighting-fast hand out, snapping said towel at her bare toes.

“Hey!” she squealed and jumped back.

“Don’t take that bossy tone with me. I’m telling you right now, I’m going to leave stuff everywhere. Toilet seat up, towels on the floor, cap off the milk.” He tugged his T-shirt over his head and dropped in on the floor. “We need to break you of this control freakiness, and this is the perfect time to learn how to go with the flow and just let things happen.”

Inexplicably, his harmless words felt as weighty as the pressure in her belly. She tried not to stare at him but failed miserably. His board shorts hung low, clinging to his lean hips. She helplessly followed the trail of hair leading from his navel downward…

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you never saw a half-naked man before, squirt.” His voice had dropped to almost a whisper, and even the childish nickname felt like a caress.

“I have,” she protested and took another step back. “Plenty of times.” Okay, she might have exaggerated a bit, but he didn’t need to know that. “You have to admit, though, you’re bigger than most.”

“Well, I appreciate that, darlin’. You know exactly what to say to a man, don’t you?” He flicked her nose with the tip of his finger and chuckled when she flushed.

“I didn’t mean
that
.” She gestured to his general groin area in a circular motion and that only made him laugh harder. “You’re such a guy sometimes,” she said with a snort of disgust. “I meant, big like tall and…beefy.”

“I guess that’s better than being doughy or fragile, so I’m going to go out on a limb and take that as a compliment.”

“You do that.” The sparring between them felt so strange with the addition of this new sexual tension. Like she’d fallen down a rabbit hole or, more likely, into one of the decade’s worth of fantasies she had stored up. She crossed the room, waiting for the bathroom door to close so she could breathe again, but felt the heat of his gaze trailing her.

“By the way.” His voice had dropped low again, the silky, intimate tone sending her pulse careening. “I like your dress.”

“Uh, thanks. I g-got it at Target.” Oh, yeah. Very smooth. But still, she couldn’t stop the flow. “My mom hates when I shop there. She says it’s for poor people.”

Perfection. She must have picked up that tidbit in some trendy women’s magazine.
If a super-hot guy compliments you, make sure to bring up your mom. And if you can squeeze in a comment about her elitist views, even better.

To Galen’s credit, he only smiled.

“Hurry up and take your shower. I’m starved.”

.

Half an hour later they were strolling down Los Rosales Street in search of food. It was a good thing, too, because sharing close quarters with him was getting to be an issue. She must have been crazy to agree to spending the next two weeks with him.

“That place looks good,” he said, pointing to a terra-cotta building dripping in exotic blooms. The elegant sign above the lanai read
Flores
, which was fitting. As they approached, a nattily dressed waiter strode by carrying a heaping plate of lobster, orangey-pink and glistening with butter.

She eyed the tray longingly then gave a regretful shake of her head. “We can’t. My dress is too casual for a place like this, and you’d probably need a jacket or at least pants.”

“We won’t know unless we try. What’s the worst thing they can do? Say we can’t go in?”

His nonchalance baffled her. It would be mortifying to get turned away. People would probably stare, and the host would think they were a couple of idiots. “I’ll pass. The bistro across the street is fine.”

He took her wrist and stopped her on the sidewalk. “I thought this was going to be the era of pushing boundaries for you? Now you won’t even go to the restaurant where you want to eat? What a chicken.”

Her stomach growled at the mention of poultry and Galen sent her a wicked grin. She gnawed on her bottom lip, trying to work up the nerve to go up to the desk, but really, what was the point? They had a lot of time. They could dress appropriately tomorrow and eat there without causing waves. She was all for change, but probably baby steps were better.

“I’d rather go another night,” she said primly.

Was it her imagination, or did he look slightly disappointed in her? She refused to explore why the thought bothered her and instead led him toward the bistro.

A few minutes later, they stood by the outdoor bar less than fifty yards from the ocean. The room was long and narrow, with seating designed to take advantage of as much beachfront space as possible. Tables flanked the railing, offering both a breeze and a view, or with a few steps down, patrons could sit at a table in the sand if they chose.

A waitress bustled by with what looked like a mouthwatering plate of shrimp and Lacey grinned. “Nice place.”

He nodded. “But don’t let the fact that it worked out well this time go to your head. It’s always better to take a chance than to be left doing the safe thing and wondering what you’re missing. I bet that lobster was fantastic.” His tone was teasing but she knew he was only half kidding, just as she knew he was right.

“It’s been one day. I’m a work in progress. Don’t forget, half of Condado Beach saw my boobs earlier, so I need some recovery time.”

She climbed onto a stool, and once she was seated, he did the same. The bartender came over and set menus in front of them. “What can I get you to drink?” he asked with a thick accent. She responded in her high school Spanish, and the waiter grinned.

“What did you order?” Galen asked.

“A
cubre libre
sans the rum.”

He chuckled. “So, a Coke?”

“Yeah. With a lime.” He clucked his tongue disapprovingly and she gave him a light shove on the shoulder. “Don’t be a bad influence. I may be sitting at the bar, but there is no way I’m drinking after yesterday. Not tonight. In fact, maybe not ever again.”

Low, husky laughter met her pronouncement. She and Galen both turned toward the source. A beautiful woman with a pin-straight fall of ebony hair sat a few stools down from them.

“Oh man, I’ve been there before,” the woman said. She was a stunner, with catlike eyes so dark they were almost black. Her sun-kissed skin suggested she’d been in San Juan for a while, although her New England accent indicated that she wasn’t a native.

The handsome sandy-haired man with her nodded more enthusiastically than she must have liked, because she gave him a playful swat on the arm. “What?” he protested. “I’m not the one who tells you to mix like that. You’re drinking wine, you drink wine. You don’t then have a beer and then a mixed drink. Am I right?” This he aimed at Galen, who held up both hands.

“Whoa, no comment. I don’t get involved in domestic disputes like this, especially when she’s clearly violent.”

The couple laughed, and Lacey felt a spurt of envy at Galen’s comfort level with strangers. While she’d always been polite, there was a natural banter that his laid-back presence seemed to inspire in spite of his intimidating size. She liked people, but anxiety held her back from making friends very easily. Actually, now that she thought about it, she’d had the same few friends since childhood. Even then it had been the result of another person befriending her, not the other way around.

Cat had instigated their friendship. She’d taken Lacey’s Twinkie and pronounced, “We’re gonna be bestest friends, you and me.” In spite of Lacey’s reserved reaction—she was pretty sure she’d shrugged helplessly—deep down, she had been thrilled to bits. Over the moon that this crazy little girl with hair the shade of a new penny, who used her outside voice all the time, would want to be friends with a boring nobody like her.

The man’s smooth alto brought her back to the present. “I’m Cyrus, and this is my fiancée, Nikki. So where you guys from?”

“Rhode Island. You?”

“Connecticut.”

A long silence ensued, during which Nikki and her man exchanged a glance. “Would you like to join us?” he asked, finally gesturing to the four-top table behind them.

Lacey tamped down the familiar swirl of nervousness and nodded. Dinner with exotic strangers. “That sounds like fun.” She couldn’t squelch the little rush of delight that swept through her when Galen tipped his head in approval.

At the suggestion of their waiter, she and Cyrus ordered the pork mofongo while Nikki and Galen opted for the catch of the day. Conversation flowed easily, and by the time their meals were served, Lacey felt at ease.

“This is unreal,” murmured Galen around a mouthful of grilled red snapper.

He and Lacey ended up passing their plates back and forth for tasting, and Lacey agreed wholeheartedly. The native spices were new to her and sent her senses into overdrive in the best way. She scraped the last remnants of tender roasted meat from her plate and sighed with regret. “Just perfect.”

“I tell you, we haven’t had a bad meal since we got here,” Cyrus said, pushing his almost empty plate away with a groan. “It’s only all the walking that’s kept me from packing on the pounds.”

“Well if that works, I guess that means we can have dessert. Prepare for a marathon tomorrow, Galen.”

He turned a lazy, half-lidded gaze toward her. “Dessert? You’re going to have to roll me out of here as it is. I haven’t eaten like this in eight months.”

Cyrus raised a questioning brow.

“Galen is a boxer. He just came off a fight in Atlantic City. It’s months of intense training and piles of chicken breast,” Lacey confided.

“Ooh, how exciting,” Nikki said, eyeing Galen speculatively. “So did you win?”

“He did,” Lacey said, pride swelling in her chest. “Knockout in the fifth.” It had been a real nail-biter up to that point, and she had spent the majority of the fight pacing in front of the TV. In fact, Marty had snapped at her because she was distracting him from his word puzzle.

“Shit, man, I recognize you now,” Cyrus said. “Whalin’ Galen Thomas! That’s very cool. I don’t get the chance to watch too much boxing, but you held the heavyweight belt for a while, didn’t you?”

Galen didn’t answer, instead raising his brows at Lacey in a clear challenge. She flushed. “He did. From summer of 2009 until mid-2010 when Manny Hermosa stole it in a controversial split decision.”

His slow grin melted her insides like butter in the sun. She cleared her throat. “So, uh, hopefully he’ll get it back before he retires.” Although her gaze was on Cyrus, she could feel Galen’s stare.

“I’m impressed,” Galen murmured.

“I like boxing,” she said, her cheeks burning. “So what do you do for work, Nikki?” she asked, desperately hoping for a change of subject, which Nikki warmed to quickly. She talked about her job in advertising, which she joked was at least as bloody as boxing, but Galen’s gaze stayed locked on Lacey, and she struggled to keep from squirming under the weight of it.

Today marked the first time she’d ever admitted that she’d followed his career. Closely. She and Cat had spoken of it in passing, and she’d gone to a couple of the parties the Thomases had hosted on fight nights. Marty had been in the apartment when she’d watched the most recent one, but no one else knew her secret. She hadn’t only watched his fights; she’d studied them. In fact, she had an entire collection of DVDs full of every televised matchup he’d ever had.

She always figured, if anyone found out, she could rationalize it with a response like,
Hey, if you went to high school with Britney Spears, you’d buy her albums.
But that wasn’t it at all. It was an opportunity to watch him in his element without him seeing the truth on her face.

She was crazy about him.

“What about you, Lacey?” Nikki asked.

“I work for my family’s law firm as the marketing director.”

“Wow, big job. Do you enjoy it?”

She opened her mouth to give her standard affirmative reply but stopped short. Did she enjoy it? She considered the question carefully. More than some things. Like jury duty and going to the gynecologist. But it wasn’t as much fun as, say, karaoke or taking in an action flick on a rainy Saturday afternoon. That’s what a job was, though, right? It wasn’t called happy fun play time. It was called work.