Chapter 2
My heart skipped about a thousand beats. “My number?” I repeated to Hunter, like a complete fool.
“Yes. Your phone number.” He cocked his head.
“Oh, oh um . . .”
His shoulders sagged. “You don’t have to.”
“It’s not that.It’sum . . .just that I workshift workand I . . . ummm . . .”
“You never told me that.”
“What?”
“That you work shift work. What do you do?”
Oh, shit.Thisis getting messy. “I’m a croupier at the casino.” I hadabsolutelyno idea where that lie came from.
“Oh wow, that’s interesting.” He tapped his temple with his finger. “Mental note: never challenge Memphis to a game of blackjack then.”
I put on a fake chuckle. “Yep, that’s right.” That’s me, a card shark from way back. Not.
“Okay, if you don’t want to give me your number, can I at least give you mine?”
I grinned and nodded.
“Have you got a pen?”
I reached into my bag and removed a Hot Horizon Hotel pen.
Hunter twisted the pen in his fingers. “Ha. I pinched one of these too.” He scribbled his number on a napkin and handed it to me. Then he leaned over and kissed my cheek. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”
Hunter turned and strode away, and I watched his sexy butt until he climbed the stairs of the hotel and disappeared.
It was a long moment before I dragged myself from the Blue Haven Café. I decided to go for a walk to clear my head.The sun was nearly directly above me, butthankfully,the winter weather kept itquitemild.
I walked along aimlessly, enjoying my scenery and replaying every wonderfulmoment of my morningwith Hunter. For the first time in my life, a man, and a sexy man at that,hadasked me for my phone number. That one simple move had me grinning like a crazy woman.
My wandering led me outside the pharmacy, and I went inside to buy more condoms.Unlike last time,todayI had a fair idea of what I was doing.I grabbed the same brand I’d bought before and strode to the counter.
The creepy guy at the checkout didn’t eyeball me like he had last time, and the purchase took less than two minutes.
I made my way back to the hotel, put my head down, and charged across the lobbyin an attemptto avoid Needledick.Though, I didn’t need to worry because he was on the phone at receptionwithhis gaze toward the computer.
The first thing I did when I entered my room was take the napkin with Hunter’s number out of my bag. I kissed it. I had no idea why I did that, but for some reason, this simple token made me feel like a silly seventeen-year-old girl who’d just been asked to the prom by the hottest guy in town. I secured his number to my fridge with a surfboard magnet and stood back to admire it.
After brushing my teeth, I stripped off and put on a floral cotton pajama set.As I saton the bed, I reached for my diary, turned to the 1st of July, and wrote, Mr. Hunter McCall Room 4.
There was something about Hunter that made himspecial, and he, in turn, made me feel warm and fuzzy as if I was falling under a magical spell. I detailed ouramazingsex in the shower and our breakfast afterward. That’s when I wrote Sex for Breakfast beneath his name.
I put the diary aside and crawled under the blanket. Hunter’s lovely scent was still on me, and as I closed my eyes, I pictured the two of us lying side by side, him with his arm around my neck and me with my leg curled over his thigh, capturing all the warmth of his exquisite body.
As I allowed sleep to take me, I drifted into another perfect world.
Running out of staples was one of my pet hates.What waseven worse was when someone else used the last one and was too lazy to replenish them. I huffed at the inconvenience, stood up from the reception counter, and wandered into the staff room.
The stationery cupboard was immaculate; thanks to my endless hours of boredom, I alwaysmade sureevery item was in itsrightfulplace.
I plucked the box of staples from the shelf at eye level andproceeded to openit as I strolled back to reception.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
My jaw fell to the floor at the drop-dead hunk with his bulging biceps resting on the counter. “Corben!”
“That’s me.”
Frozen to the floor, I tucked a slip of hair behind my ear and played my eyes over the muscles bursting from his tight T-shirt. The rose tattoo on his left bicep was stunning. I couldn’t remember seeing thatamazingartwork last time. Surely, I wouldn’t have missed a masterpiece like that.
“So,” he said, snapping my attention back to his lips. “What would you like to do first . . . fuck or go for a jog?”
The staples launched from my fingers and tumbled to the floor like scurrying ants.
“Are you okay?” A frown drilled across his forehead.
I nodded, dumbstruck, then lowered to the floor to pick up the mess, hopeful the distraction would release me from the mind scramble I’d fallen into.
“Jane, are you there?”
I swallowed hard, tossed a couple of staples in the bin, and reluctantly sat up on my knees to look at him. “Hi.” Iactuallywaved. I’m an idiot.
“So, which is it . . . fuck or run?”
My eyeballs practically launched from my sockets as I gasped. “Corben! Shhh.”
“Argh, don’t worry.” He waved his hand around the empty foyer. At least, I hoped it was still empty. “Nobody’s around. So, what’s your answer?”
“I . . . I . . .” I’m a blubbering idiot.
“I’ll decide then. Shall I?”
I nodded so quickly my eyes couldn’t keep up.
“Right then. You finish at six-thirty, right?”
Nodding was about the only body movement I could manage.
“Okay, so I’ll meet you out the front at seven. Don’t be late.”
He turned, and I dragged myself up onto the reception chair just in time to watch his cute butt in the tiniest gym shorts seconds before he disappeared into the elevator.
“Holy shit.” I crumbled into the leather chair and wiped the sweat beading on my forehead with the back of my hand.
My pounding heart took an eternity to settle, and when it did, I returned to the floor to collect the remaining staples. As I scrambled around on my hands and knees, I stewed over Corben’s forthright request and couldn’t decide if I should be mad or thrilled.Last time I was with him, I’d noted him asbeinga man of few words.Maybe the direct approach was the only one he knew.
A guy as hot as Corben could get any girl he wanted; it seemed all he had to do was ask.
I’d fallen for it, too . . . hook, line, and sinker. Ifhe’dasked me to remove my underwear, I probably would’ve hadthemaround my ankles beforehecould blink.
I giggled. Thank Godmy theory hadn’t been tested.
I glanced at the clock over the filing cabinet. Thank God. I had just twenty minutes until the end of my shift. Then I’d have to wait out the customary delay until Needledick arrived to take over from me. With a bit of luck, my boss wouldn’t be too late today, although I didn’t hold much hope.
My thoughts drifted back to Corben with his broad shoulders and tight buns that begged tobe squeezed. I pictured his chiseled physique jogging along the golden sand, striding with those perfect muscular calves bulging with each step. A wave of anxiety ripped through me as I wondered how the hell I was going to keep up with him. Runningwith Corben! What was I thinking?
Fear of failure gripped me.
Not only did I worry about keeping up, but what if I couldn’t concentrate with that hunk of spunk at my side andIlanded face-first on the sand?
I fought the negative vibes by gritting my teeth and forcing positive affirmations into my brain. I can do this. Damned if I was going to look weak. It was suddenlyvery importantfor me to showhimjusthow fit I was. The extreme workouts I suffered at the hands of Lolita were about to pay off. I hope.
Needledick arrived fifteen minutes late,which allowedme just fifteen minutes toget readyfor Corben.Ten, if I included theridiculously slowelevator rides.When the door pinged open on my floor, I ran to my room.As I dashed about, stripping off and redressing at breakneck speed, I threw in a few stretches as I went. Last of all, I did up my shoelaces and stretched my hammiesat the same time.
If I’d had time, I would’ve rung Lolita and told her about going for a run with Mr. Universe. I giggled as I imagined her sprinting from her place to my hotelin an effort tojoin us.
I applied sunscreen, grabbed my sunglasses, shoved my room key into the discreetly hidden zip pocket in my Nike gym shorts, and headed out my door.
The elevator took forever to arrive, and by the time it reached the lobby, I’d managed several decent stretches.I was three minutes late. My tardiness distressed me, but then, as I thought about it, I wondered why.I had no obligation to Corben, and ifhe wanted me,thenhe’d have to wait.
Yeah, I’ll show him who’s boss.
My newfound fortitude shattered to a gazillion pieces at my first glimpse of Corben. He faced the cresting sun. Bolts of yellow sunlight silhouetted him like he was a prize-winning portrait. Corben was a man of muscle, from his bulging calves to his outrageous shoulders. I was in trouble. How on earth did I think I could keep up? As I contemplated running back to the elevator, he turned.
“’Bout time, Jane.”His deep voice was loadedwith authority.
“Sorry.” No, I’m not. I yelled in my head.
“Come on, sexy. Let’s go.”
Sexy! Okay, he’s forgiven.
He trotted ahead of me in a smooth, practiced gait, and I fell in behind, enjoying his stunning derriere as it bulged and flexed with each move. His muscular ass was like some kind of hypnotist trick, guaranteed to make me do whatever he wanted.
“Come on, catch up.” He waved, urging me forward.
I caught up to him, and we fell into a comfortable stride. It was hard to decide which one of us was setting the pace. Together, we left the path, crossed the raised wooden platform, and hit the sand. We remained side by side even once we reached the part where the sand was firmer from the outgoing tide.
“You’re good, Jane.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“Most women can’t keep up.”
“I’m not like most women.” My quick statement shocked me, but Ifeignedconfidence by raising my eyebrows at him.
He smiled at me, and the sun dazzled in his mirrored sunglasses. “No, you’re not, Memphis.”
We carried on in silence.The crashing waves and our shoes crunching in the sandwere the only sounds.It felt good, basking in the glorious winter sunshine and breathing in the crisp morning air. I really should do this more often.
If Corben and Iactuallyhooked up, wouldthis be something we didevery day?I just about face-planted at that outrageous thought.
As if a guy like him would want a girl like me.
I shook my head and concentrated on the red and yellow lifesaver flags in the distance.
It wasn’t until we neared the Mermaid Beach Surf Club that my breathing became ragged. I knew from experience that we’d run a distance of two miles,a run thatusually took me fifteen or so minutes. I was sure we’d done it much quicker today.
As if some bell had sounded, we both slowed to a walk at the same time, right next to the lifesaver’s Jet Ski parked on the shoreline. The surfers were out in force today, smelling of suntan lotion and capturing me with their lithe, tanned bodies. They looked amazing, but next to Corben, they resembled underdeveloped teenagers.
“Ready to head back?” Corben spoke his first words in about five minutes.
“Sure.” We turned around, and Corben walked toward the chair built out of surfboards near the beach shower. Curious, I followed. He sat and began undoing his laces. Taking his lead, I did the same. Then, with our shoes dangling in our hands, we walked past the mingling surfers again and down to the water. We skirted tumbling waves as we strolled back toward the Hot Horizon Hotel.
I tried to take glimpses at him without being too obvious. In the glorious morning sunlight, he was a rough diamond with dazzling facets in all the right places and muscles in all the rest.
He was more than six and a half feet of male perfection, and as we walked along, every person strolling toward us ogled him like he was Channing Tatum.
“So, what’s your story, Memphis Jane?” His voice was a deep baritone.
I raised my eyebrows. “Story?”
“Yeah. What makes you pretend to be someone you’re not?”
“Who says I’m not?”
Even Corben’s mirrored glasses suited the scene. Yummy. “Me.”
“Oh.” A wave crashed over my ankles, and I angled up the beach slightly, pushing him aside as I went.
“The woman who stands behind the reception desk at that hotel is nothing like the woman who sneaks into men’s rooms to get her jollies.”
I gasped, ready to retort, but then realized he was right. “I don’t sneak into rooms,” I finally said, half-hearted.
“No, you’re right, but the rest is true. So why do you do it?”
Oh, God, did Ireallywant to have this conversation? Several more waves tumbled at my feet as Corben silentlywaited formy response. Eventually, I shrugged. “Because it’s fun.”
He nodded as if my answer made perfect sense. “Jane doesn’t have fun?”
“No.”
He yanked his tank top off and scooped me up, one arm around my back, one beneath my knees.
“Hey!” I squealed.
He turned toward the ocean.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” I tried to wriggle out of his arms.
He raised his eyebrows. “Try and stop me.”