Chapter 11
11
S he smelled so good, all warm and womanly. Her citrus scent wasn’t strong enough to be perfume, more like the lotion she’d rubbed in. While they’d danced, her scent mesmerized him. Despite the fast beat of the song, he could have held her body nestled against his as if the rhythm were slow and sexy.
Walking her back to the hotel was an excuse. Although the boardwalk could be confusing. Even with the signs, you could suddenly find you’d missed your hotel completely.
He looped her arm through his. “Thank you for the dance.”
A smile curved her kissable lips. “Thank you for the volcano show. Or is it a fire show? Or a water show?”
He wanted to kiss the lipstick off her mouth, kiss her until neither of them could breathe. “I’ve heard them called all three. What did you like best?”
“Definitely the fire song. It was incredible. And so hot. I almost had to step back.”
He wanted to tell her she triggered all that heat. At least for him. But he wasn’t sure either of them was ready yet. All he knew was that he wanted more.
Walking slowly, extending their time together, he thought about asking her to stay for another drink, a cocktail they could carry out to the pool deck. But he didn’t want to force her to make an excuse.
He had to chuckle. Had he been this worried about a girl’s reactions when he was at university?
When they stepped into the elevator, she pushed the eighth button.
“We’re on the same floor,” he said. She could have been anywhere in this building, or in any of the other four. But she was here. Coincidence or providence? When they stepped off, he asked, “Which way are you?”
She was already turning down the opposite hallway from his.
He followed. “I’ll walk you to your door. I want to make sure you’re safe.”
“Thank you.” She smiled, a twinkle in her tawny eyes, as if she knew potential dangers in the hallway were an excuse.
Her room was only a couple of doors down, facing the pools, and she turned to him, their hands still linked. Dean couldn’t seem to let go. “Thank you for walking me back,” she said. “I’m sure I would have gotten lost on those walkways.”
“It was my pleasure.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek.
But her scent was so enticing, the heat of her body arcing into his. He didn’t question his impulse as he cupped her chin and tipped her mouth to his, kissing her with a light touch at first, then growing deeper as he licked the seam of her lips and she parted for him. Desire took over as he wrapped his arms around her. Curling hers around his neck, she went up on her toes to meet him. Her taste was exquisite, like the fruity cocktail she’d had in the bar, like sexy woman, like Donna Summers’ Hot Stuff .
He kissed her until the elevator dinged and voices floated down the hall, backing off to whisper against her lips, “See you tomorrow.” He didn’t make it a date. He didn’t it make a question.
It was a fact. He would see her tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that.
Greer closed the door, leaned against it, her fingers to her lips. She could still taste him, like sweet fire. She could still smell him, like a wild jungle cat.
If he’d asked to come into her room, she would have dragged him inside. Even if it was a bad idea. In that moment, with his arms around her and his lips on hers, she wanted everything. And she wanted it right then.
But she was glad he hadn’t asked. Though nothing could have stopped her, she’d have regretted it in the morning. And she didn’t want any regrets where Dean Adamo was concerned.
She kicked off her sandals with the same abandon she’d used on the dance floor, then flung herself on the bed, looking at the ceiling, smiling. Imagining. Wanting.
Until her phone rang. She fumbled it out of her purse. Dean could be calling. And oh, she wanted to talk to him. She wanted his voice whispering sweet nothings or dirty talk in her ear.
Her voice was breathless with all her desires. “Hello?”
“Where are you?”
Conrad’s voice stripped away every single sensual feeling she had.
If she’d looked first, she wouldn’t have picked up. The thought made her want to slap her hand over her mouth. She’d done nothing to feel guilty about.
Yet.
But instead of engaging the hostility in his voice, she said, “Well, hello to you too.”
The sarcasm passed right over him. “I called the house phone several times. But you never picked up.” Suspicion hardened his tone.
Conrad was the only person she knew who still had a landline. “I’m in Puerto Vallarta,” she said mildly.
She waited for the explosion. It didn’t come. Just as mildly—too mildly?—he said, “But we canceled the trip.”
“You canceled. I didn’t. I would have lost all the money I paid. So I came.”
He shot out a breath so harshly she heard it. “I don’t understand you, Greer. I thought we’d planned to talk about our relationship when I got back.”
“We can talk when I —” She stressed the word. “—get back.”
She could have said they needed to discuss the relationship now. But there were some things that weren’t phone material, and this was one of them.
Or maybe she was stalling.
Not wanting to sound callous, she added, “We’ll discuss everything when we’re home.”
“What’s going on with you?” he questioned.
“Nothing. We had a trip planned. You canceled it. I didn’t. I’m here. And I’ll enjoy the sun and the good weather. I hope you enjoy the Wisconsin snow.” Her finger itched to push the End button. “I’m going now, Conrad,” using his name for emphasis. “I’m tired. I’m still jet-lagged. I’ll talk to you later.” She didn’t say tomorrow. Or the next day.
And then she ended the call.
He called back. She didn’t pick up. Instead, she sent him a text.
I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.
He didn’t call again, didn’t answer her text.
She was probably an idiot for not having the conversation right then and getting it over with. Now there was the lingering guilt over that passionate kiss with Dean while she was still technically living with Conrad. For months, she’d adapted to his behavior. She hadn’t wanted another relationship to fail. She hadn’t wanted to feel like a failure the way she had with Hal.
But really, could their relationship ever be fixed now?
Greer stepped into her bathing suit the next morning and tossed the cover-up over her head. It reached her thighs, covering her bottom.
She’d breakfasted on coffee and complementary fruit from a bowl on the sideboard, a delicious pear and an orange. At nine thirty, she headed to the beach. Passing the pool complex and the waterslides, she followed the path over a bridge, grabbing two towels from a nearby hut.
The sun was already high in the sky and beautifully warm on her skin.
Chairs and umbrellas stretched out on the sand, several food carts and drink stations positioned along the boardwalk, and a restaurant just a few steps off the pathway. Sellers offering Mexican pottery, jewelry, and clothing sat on a raised wooden deck beneath a grass canopy. Beyond the three rows of lounge chairs, the wide expanse of beach extended out until it met the water and the crashing waves.
From the first row of beach chairs, Dean waved to her.
Her heart leapt. Though last night he’d said he’d see her the next day, she hadn’t intended to spend the day with him. Overstaying her welcome still bothered her. But when Dean waved her over, saying, “I saved you a chair,” she couldn’t resist.
He and Bernice and a couple of nieces and nephews had staked out loungers for their entire family. In groups of four, the chairs surrounded small round tables with umbrellas.
“Did you sleep well?” A gleam in his eyes asked if she’d dreamed of him.
She nodded, having slept well, after ruminating only a little while about Conrad and that phone call.
“What about you?” she asked.
He smiled widely, sensually. “I had some very interesting dreams. But I still had a great sleep.”
She flushed, sensing those dreams were about her. “I guess we’re both over our jet lag now.”
He nodded. “So we have the rest of the week to enjoy.” Standing, he took one of her towels, smoothing it out on her chair, then she laid the other across the back of the lounger.
He yanked his T-shirt over his head and tossed it across the bottom of his chair, his chest in full view. He was fifty-eight—Bernice had told her—and yet he had impressive muscles and close to six-pack abs.
Greer didn’t let her jaw drop. She didn’t drool. She didn’t even fan herself. But she did feel self-conscious about pulling off her cover-up in front of that imposing sight.
Men seemed to age better than women. Menopause was a cruel joke. Finally free from the monthly curse, those terrible five—or ten—pounds glommed on, everything wanted to sag, and your skin turned crepey. At least she hadn’t lost her sex drive the way many women did. But then she was only fifty-five. She wondered how long before that went too.
Faced with Dean’s striking pectorals, it was obvious her libido was alive and kicking, even if she was self-conscious about her body.
When Bernice stripped down to her bathing suit, her body still trim even with the signs of bearing three children and having lived for sixty-nine years, Greer decided she could do no less than match her new friend. She tugged off the cover-up, folding it into her beach bag.
She waited for the sight of her one-piece—and her fifty-five-year-old body—to douse the flame in Dean’s eyes, but his gaze burned even hotter.
Bernice finally saw her, waving, then coming over. “I’m so glad you’ve joined us today. Dean and I got here early to stake out the chairs.” She fist-bumped Greer’s shoulder. “There’s room for everyone. Though I’ll bet you any money a bunch of these chairs will remain empty while the kids go off and do whatever.” She waved her hands expressively, then looked at Dean. “Are the girls coming?”
“I told them I’d save a couple of chairs.” Then he shrugged. “But I don’t know.”
Bernice rolled her eyes and huffed out a sigh. “I had another chat with them and told them they needed to try.”
Dean raised a hand, backing her off. “Please, Bernice, too much telling them what to do will drive them away.”
Greer agreed.
But Bernice just wagged her head. “I want them to know that my—” She pointed an arched finger at her chest. “—agenda is important too. And I want to see this family fixed. You know they listen to me,” she added.
Dean grumbled, “Let’s just wait and see.”
Smiling, Bernice turned on her heel, laid on her chair, and slipped her sunglasses into place. As if she’d closed the subject.
After a tense thirty-second silence in which they both stretched out on their loungers, Dean asked, “Did you have breakfast?” Strain still filled his voice.
She nodded, tilting her head on the lounge chair. “Some fruit and coffee.”
He pointed to the table between them. “I ordered a pot. Need another pickup?”
She’d had only one cup, and she nodded. “I’d love it, thank you.”
He poured. “Cream and sugar?”
She resisted the urge to pat her stomach. “Just cream.”
He added both to his. Men didn’t have to worry about menopausal pounds.
After her first sip, she closed her eyes, wanting to swoon. “This is so delicious .” She drawled the word, savoring the rich, almost smoky flavor.
“It’s a special Mexican blend they offer at the resort. Phillip sends me a care package every few of months. I can’t find it back home.”
She smiled. “I might have to make an arrangement with Phillip too.”
He grinned, all his tension draining away. “If you ask sweetly, I can see my way to sharing.”
It was sexy. Flirtatious. It could mean so many things.
“Thank you. And I’m sweetly asking.” As he laughed, she added, “This certainly isn’t the coffee they put in the rooms.”
He shook his head. “It’s a special order and only in the restaurants.”
The family seats started filling up, and Sylvia arrived with Nana.
Stopping by their chairs, she patted Greer’s shoulder. “Oh my dear, it’s so good to see you. Now don’t let yourself burn.”
Greer assured her, “I won’t.” Then she reached down to her bag and held up the economy-size sunblock she’d brought.
Nana clapped her hands, though barely making a noise. “I’ll know where to go when mine runs out.” Then Sylvia led her to a chair beside Bernice.
“Your mother really is sweet.” Her eyes were still on his mother as the woman fussed with her chair, having Sylvia move it until she was completely in the umbrella’s shade. Plopping down, she kept her cover-up. Greer wasn’t even sure she wore a bathing suit.
“Don’t I know it,” Dean agreed. “And since I’m the youngest as well as the only boy, she spoils me rotten.”
“I bet, even as much as your sisters give you a bad time, they spoil you rotten too.”
His face broadened with a wide smile. “When I was up in heaven, before I got sent down here, I requested to be the only boy in the family, with three older sisters.”
She would have laughed, but his daughters arrived then, dubiously surveying the two empty chairs in their grouping of four. Before they could move to sit with their aunts or cousins, Dean pointed to the coffee carafe. “I ordered your favorite.”
Greer wondered if that was the only reason the two girls sat. “Thanks, Dad.” Cynthia threw her towel and beach bag on a chair, then she eyed her sister, who hadn’t moved.
As if the two had exchanged a signal, Lisa said, “Yeah, thank you, Dad.” Her voice wasn’t sullen. That wasn’t the right word. It was… subdued. “Phillip sends us coffee care packages to our dorm room,” she said, indicating they went to the same university and shared a room.
Dean poured, adding cream and sugar, obviously knowing what they each liked, two packets for Cynthia, and one for Lisa.
When they were both seated, he asked, “Did you guys enjoy the second fire show?”
Cynthia sprayed sunscreen on her legs. “It was killer.” She grinned. “They even played a second fire song. Not just one like the first show.”
Lisa added, “I don’t know why they didn’t play it the first time around. You should’ve stayed.” She smiled at Greer, including her. “You totally would have liked it.”
Dean got into the conversation again. “Maybe we can go another night.” His hand moved, almost as if he wanted to reach for Greer, but the coffee sat between them. And his daughters were looking on.
“I’d love to see it again.” Greer let her eyes crinkle with humor. “We had a cocktail with your grandmother after the show, and I very much enjoyed talking with her. She’s a hoot.”
Cynthia laughed out loud. “Nana is kick-ass.”
Dean’s mother called out, “Did I hear my name, dears?”
Cynthia called back. “You most certainly did. Which would you rather be, kick-ass or badass?”
Nana stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Am I kick-ass or and am I badass? To be or not to be? They’re both such delightful words. Maybe you should just switch back and forth.” Then she flopped back against her lounge chair with a cheeky smile on her face.
Greer couldn’t tell for sure behind the sunglasses, but she thought Lisa looked first at her before turning to her father. “Dad.” She stopped as if she’d rehearsed a speech and suddenly forgotten the exact wording. Cynthia handed her the spray can of sunscreen, and using it to focus, Lisa finally added, “About last night.”
Dean answered quickly. “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, I’m more than happy to help.”
His daughter looked at him for a long moment. Greer had no clue what was going through her mind. Had Dean cut off what she’d planned to say?
“Thank you,” Lisa started again. “But what I really want to say is that I jumped down your throat way too quickly. And I’m sorry. And I’d really appreciate your help.” She glanced at Cynthia—had they talked this over last night?—who gave the slightest nod no one would notice unless they looked directly at her. And Dean was concentrating on Lisa.
“Honestly,” Lisa said. “I got a really good scholarship, so I shouldn’t need too much. But this is a great move for me. There’s lots of opportunities opening up for translations. That’s why I want to learn German. Their book market is ginormous. And with all the new self-publishers, they’re hungry for good translators.”
“You don’t have to sell it to me, sweetheart. I trust your judgment. It’s a fantastic idea.”
She let out a breath in a whoosh as if she’d been holding it. “Thank you.”
Not wanting the conversation to die, Greer said, “Heidelberg sounds amazing. And you’ll be in the heart of Europe, with so many places you can get to easily. Rome. Prague. Paris. Berlin. Amsterdam. And a flight to London would be a piece of cake.”
“Not to mention Oktoberfest.” Enthusiasm lit Cynthia’s eyes. “I’ve already decided that’s when I’m coming over to see you.”
They laughed, almost like a release of tension.
Greer jumped in. “Heck, that’s when I’m coming too.” With the way the girls smiled, and Dean, too, Greer was sure she’d said just the right thing at just the right moment.