Flirting With Temptation (18 page)

Her bikini was emerald and shiny, a beautiful contrast to that long, red, curly hair. Her lips glistened, either from some kind of sunscreen lip balm or from the drink currently gracing the table beside her, a piña colada, her favorite poolside beverage of choice, and one that used to leave her slightly tipsy and undeniably horny.

From the way she was eyeing Chris Langley, resident lifeguard and resident “stud” according to the females at White Sands, the horny part was already in motion.

“Hell,” Jeff muttered, leaving the balcony. No way was she going to tease him the way she’d done last night and then sleep with someone else today.

Wasn’t happening.

Babette had run her own show for way too long, and he wasn’t going to be yet another male puppet on her eternal set of strings. It was time she learned that someone else could call the shots, and whether she liked it or not, that someone was going to be him.

Babette closed her eyes and stretched on the lounger. What an amazing day. Sure, she still hadn’t talked to Jeff about Kitty, and that marred the perfection somewhat, but hey, she was in Destin, staying at an elaborate condo resort, enjoying a relaxing day by the pool with a piña colada at hand and a hunky lifeguard by her side.

The only thing missing was sex, and she was planning to take care of that detail asap. She was already mentally considering this day with Chris by the pool as their first date. Even though it was kind of cheating, she’d probably consider whatever they did together tonight—and she just knew he was going to ask her to do something, dinner, dancing, whatever—as date number two. By tomorrow, she could technically say that they were on their third date, and she could move on to all things that third dates involved.

She sure wished they’d already achieved third date status, because she seriously needed a hard and heavy romp in the sheets, or on the floor, perhaps a table. She thought about Kitty’s two-month rule. Maybe if she’d played harder to get then she’d have been the one that had Jeff’s ring on her finger.

Her eyes popped open. She hadn’t wanted a ring from Jeff back then.

Back then? She didn’t want a ring from Jeff now.

“You okay?” Chris asked, leaning toward her from the lounger that he’d moved within centimeters of hers. They might as well be on the same one, he was so close, but she didn’t mind. It felt very good to have a big brawny male by her side.

She inhaled, let it out slowly, and remembered the business goal of her trip. And that her own new personal goal for the trip was to remember how amazing sex could be. It was not to find out why Jeff had picked Kitty over her. Though it sure would be helpful if she could get it off her mind. And she’d bet Chris could totally help her, and probably wouldn’t mind doing whatever it took to make that happen.

Babette resolved to let him do just that, as soon as they hit date three, which she also resolved would happen no later than tomorrow. She. Needed. Sex.

“Hey,” Chris said, and she realized she hadn’t answered his question.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She smiled, and he lifted his sunglasses and winked at her. It was undoubtedly a move he’d practiced, because it was sexy as all get-out and very lifeguard-like. She could almost see him doing the same thing to bikini babes walking along the beach when he was in his lifeguard stand. And then came that curiosity. How
many
bikini babes did he do on a regular basis? And how careful was he when he did?

Rose’s case of condoms came to mind. Jeff was experienced too, probably the most experienced guy she’d ever met, if he was actually sleeping with every female that Rose had spied on his balcony. Babette seriously hoped Jeff was taking advantage of Rose’s “gift.” Then again, he’d always been careful with Babette, so she was sure he took the same care with other women. But she had no idea whether Chris did.

She made a mental note to pick up condoms tonight. If Chris didn’t offer to wear one, she’d make the request—demand—whatever. Of course, the whole idea of his potential other women made her start to second-guess whether she really wanted a date three with him. She frowned. She did want sex, and sadly, he wasn’t looking like the right guy to fit the bill anymore.

“You need another drink?” he asked, lifting her empty glass.

“That’d be great.”

He smiled again, and once more, it looked very practiced, and she shook her head. The lust was gone, just like that. She still wanted sex, but she didn’t want it with the hottie lifeguard, and that simply sucked. When had she become so picky?

Quite a while back, she realized, since she hadn’t had sex in months. She blinked. Thought about how long it had
really
been.

“Oh, my,” she whispered. She hadn’t had sex since Jeff. And that wasn’t merely a few months; it was an entire year!

A year without sex? Was that even normal? No, no it wasn’t; she had no doubt that a healthy thirty-four year old (knocking on thirty-five’s door, but she wouldn’t go there now) did not go a year without. But she had. She pondered what it meant that she hadn’t allowed herself to get to date three, that she’d found some fault with every single guy she’d dated, since Jeff.

Every woman around the pool shifted in her seat, all heads turning toward the doors leading to the lobby at White Sands. Naturally, Babette looked to see what had gotten their attention.

“Oh, my,” she repeated, watching Jeff stride toward the pool, his sandy hair tousled, his tall frame looking all mighty and powerful in his white pullover and khaki pants. His chest pressed against the soft fabric of the sweater and flexed slightly with every move, as did his thighs against his pants, his quads making a subtle appearance with each step forward. His jaw was firmly set, as though he were on a mission, and those turquoise eyes were focused and determined.

“Good Lord, I hope he’s coming to me,” the woman a few chairs down from Babette said, but Babette knew better. He was looking straight at her, and he had that I-won’t-take-no-for-an-answer glare.

She swallowed, and wondered what the question was, because saying no wasn’t anywhere in her current equation. God help her, she hoped he didn’t ask for more than she needed to give. Because right now, turned on and needy and having just realized that he was the last guy she’d had sex with—she wouldn’t say no.

As well as he knew her, he probably could tell all that by merely looking at her. She diverted her attention to the pool, sunlight reflecting off the water, a lady swimming, a beach raft floating near the . . .

“I’ll take that.” Jeff’s voice was gruff, and she simply couldn’t keep looking at the pool. She turned and saw him grab her drink from Chris’s hand.

“I was getting her a . . .” Chris started, attempting to sound rough, but nowhere near the level that Jeff had already accomplished, and Jeff knew it.

“Well, I’m getting it for her now.” Jeff stopped walking and simply stood there, daring Chris to even attempt to take the drink from his hand, or to keep breathing.

Chris shot a look at Babette, probably to gauge her expression. She was dumbfounded and had no earthly idea what to say, since she had no earthly idea what was happening.

“Hey, man, we were just talking. I had no idea you two were a thing,” Chris said defensively, and with that, all at once, he didn’t look hot anymore. He looked
young
. Good God, she’d never even asked his age. What was he? Thirty? Twenty-eight? Twenty-
five
?

“We’re not a thing,” Jeff quickly corrected, which was good, since Babette had temporarily lost the ability to form words.

“O-kay,” Chris said, perplexed.

Babette, Chris, and everyone at the pool waited for Jeff to provide some sliver of an explanation. Didn’t happen. He merely stood his ground and waited for Chris to retreat. Chris took another longing look at Babette, shook his head, shrugged a little, then turned and headed toward the beach.

“Get your things.” It wasn’t a request.

Get her things? Babette glared at him. “You’ve already caused a scene. Now stop snapping at me as though I’ve done something wrong here.” Her temper was coming back into play, and she welcomed it. Being mad was better than being turned on, sort of. Or at least when Jeff was standing there looking all rugged and broody and right.

He stepped closer, and his broad shadow covered her completely. “You said you wanted to talk,” he said, his voice still gravelly, but not quite as demanding. “So get your things.”

If he hadn’t added that last mandate, she’d have answered him civilly. But he had, so there. “I did want to talk, but you weren’t home, and I decided to enjoy the pool—and everything it has to offer,” she added, to remind him that the lifeguard he’d shooed away had been here because she’d wanted him here. And she had, until right before Jeff arrived, when she’d started pondering how to get rid of him. Thanks to Jeff, she didn’t have to worry about
that
anymore.

And that pissed her off. Who was he to force Chris to leave? She should have been able to do that on her own, in her own way, when she was good and ready.

“Babette. I’m ready to talk. Now. You’re getting paid to talk to me, so unless you want me to call Kitty and tell her that—one, you aren’t doing your job, and two, I wouldn’t get back with her if she was the last woman on the planet, then I suggest you get—your—things.”

She got her things. But she huffed and puffed while she was doing it. “And bring my drink. I have a feeling I’m gonna need it,” she hissed, then stamped toward the lobby. “Are we going inside, or what? Because I really don’t understand why we can’t simply talk out here.” She kept walking, never breaking stride as she fussed about having to leave the poolside in the first place.

“You’re burnt,” he said, right before she stepped into the lobby.

She took a couple more steps to get out of the sun so she could see better, whipped off her sunglasses and glanced down. Not good. She was pink, very pink, and if she was that pink already, then later she’d be lobster-esque.

“Oh, no.”

“That’s the reason I told you to get your things, because you needed to get inside,” he explained, and his voice was back to semi-normal, still a little raw at the edges, but better than before.

“You could have explained that out there,” she snapped, then lifted one leg to see that the burn factor wasn’t merely on her arms and belly. Oh no, every part of her was pink. That shower was going to sting, big time. “How did this happen?”

“You didn’t wear sunscreen,” he said, scanning the lobby. “We need to find somewhere to sit and talk.”

“Why don’t we just go to my room?” she asked, then realized what a mistake that’d be. A gruff and rough and gorgeous Jeff in her room, with her needing sex the way she knew she did, wouldn’t be so great. “Or not.”

“Not,” he agreed, without further explanation.

She shivered. The air conditioning system in the lobby was certainly in full working order, but then again, her sunburn probably made it seem even more frigid.

“You have a T-shirt in there?” he asked, indicating her bag.

She shook her head.

“A cover-up?”

Another shake.

“Towel?”

“I used one that the pool guy provided, and then I left it out there.”

He frowned. “Come on.” Then he took her hand and led her toward the elevator.

“Where are we going?”

“Your room. You’re freezing, and you need to put something on. I may be pissed at you, but I’m not about to make you stay down here and freeze to death.”

She followed him into the elevator and then stood on the opposite side, shifting from one foot to the other as she tried to find a comfortable stance in her bikini. Talk about awkward. Jeff, in his dress clothes and looking impeccable, and her, in a teeny-tiny bikini and looking burnt. At least red and green went well together; she was definitely red.

“I don’t get it,” she said. “Chris put sunscreen on me.” He had, and he’d certainly enjoyed doing it, being extremely thorough in making certain all parts were covered.

“Where is the sunscreen?” he asked, his voice all gravelly again.

“What?”

“The sunscreen that
Chris
put on you.” He said Chris’s name as though it scorched his tongue.

She opened her beach bag, withdrew the bottle and handed it to him.

The elevator doors opened, and she led the way to her room while he examined the bottle.

“It’s SPF thirty,” she said. “There’s no reason for it not to have worked.”

“Except that the date on this bottle is a year ago,” he said, stopping beside her at her door while she opened it.

She had no idea sunscreen even had an expiration date. “Expired?”

“Yeah. Where did you get this, Babette? Because it shouldn’t have been on the shelf. It’s long since lost its ability to protect anyone from sunburn, especially a redhead with a tendency to burn anyway.”

She stepped into her condo and shivered again. It was even colder than the lobby. She always turned the thermostat down at night, because she liked it cold when she slept so she could snuggle into the sheets. But now it felt absolutely icy. “You mean where did I buy it?” she asked, trying to remember, as she hustled toward the thermostat and started punching the arrow to make it go up, up, up. “I’ve got to get a T-shirt,” she said, hurrying into her bedroom. “And I don’t remember where I bought it.” She grabbed her sleepshirt off the bed and threw it on over her swimsuit.

Returning to the living room, she found he’d made himself at home on the white sofa, propping his feet on the coffee table while he continued frowning at the sunscreen bottle. “Well, whoever still had this on the shelf should be shot. It won’t protect anyone, certainly not you.” He looked up at her, and the turquoise pillows on the couch seemed to cause his eyes to look even more striking, and Babette momentarily forgot what they were talking about.

“Huh?”

“You need to try to remember the name of the store, Babette. I’ll call them and let them know that this stuff has expired, or other people are going to get burned as well. Literally.”

Then her memory kicked in, and she said, “But I bought it the last time I went to the beach.”