Deep Focus (6 page)

5

M
ELANIE
COULDN
’
T
BELIEVE
she had just taken her straw deep in front of Hunter. What the hell was wrong with her? That was not appropriate by any stretch of the imagination, but what had being appropriate ever gotten her?

On vacation with a total stranger, that was what.

“Thanks,” she said, after removing the straw. Her first instinct was to demur, or point out her flaws. But there was genuine appreciation on Hunter’s face, and she decided just to sit back and accept the compliment, and not wonder about its sincerity. “Sometimes I surprise even myself.”

The food was working its magic, and she actually felt human again. It had been a hell of a day.

Hunter leaned across the table. “So now I know all I need to do is call you a good girl and you’ll show me your naughty side.”

He was flirting, he really was. There was no denying that tone. He’d even shifted closer to her.

“I don’t think I’m that easy,” she said, matching her tone to his. Her voice lowered, she leaned, as well.

“I didn’t mean to imply you were. But you’re on vacation. You should feel free to relax a little. Or a lot, depending on your mood.”

“I feel much better already.” She glanced at his plate. “Are you done? Should we go to the pool?” Seeing Hunter in trunks would be anticlimactic after his underwear, but she relished the idea of lying in a chaise longue and enjoying the view.

“Sure.” He politely waited for her to stand up, then gestured for her to walk ahead.

There was something to be said for gentlemanly behavior. Melanie realized she hadn’t noticed its absence, but even simple gestures like Hunter opening the door for her were appreciated and noteworthy. That was sad. It was a prime example of how low her expectations of men had become. When had that happened? In her quest to be a contemporary and independent woman, had she allowed men to slack off on basic courtesies? Clearly the answer to that was yes.

Maybe Hunter was doing it because he was a hired gun, but she didn’t think so. It just seemed part of his nature, fresh and genuine.

She was grateful for the way he had been treating her. He’d let her lay her head in his lap; he’d made her laugh. Listened to her bitch about Ian. He hadn’t had to do any of that. Funny to think that in her quest to find men she’d thought were creative, artistic and therefore exciting, she’d probably passed up a guy or two like Hunter. Manly, sexy, gentlemanly.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to learn the lesson.

Maybe she could strike up a friendship of sorts with Hunter while they were here in Cancún together and she could feel out what it would be like to spend time with a guy like him. It might help her relax and be more open to dating a variety of men in the future, instead of homing in on a specific type.

“I can’t even imagine what it was like to be deployed,” she said, making conversation. Asking about a huge chunk of his adult life seemed a good way to make him open up. “It must have been really hard.”

They were walking along the path toward their room, and Melanie lifted her face to the warm sun.

Hunter shrugged. “It was a job. I did it. I came home.”

Well, that was revealing. “Thanks for sharing,” she told him ruefully.

“What am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know. A story, your feelings. I’m just trying to get to know you a little better.”

“I don’t do feelings. Ask my ex-girlfriend.”

“But you’re not insensitive or a brute or anything.” She knew he wasn’t. He’d already displayed a great deal of compassion for her.

“I don’t think so, no. I can talk about your feelings. Just not mine.”

“I don’t want to talk about my feelings.”

“Then we’re on the same page. Let’s talk about bananas and cherries and porn-star names again.” He reached out and took her arm, shifting her out of the way of a giant lizard a foot to her right.

She felt her eyeballs bulge. “What is that?” she gasped.

“I don’t know. I doubt it’s dangerous, but you probably shouldn’t step on it.”

“Yuck.” She shuddered and moved closer to Hunter. “I think we’ve exhausted the porn-star-names conversation. Let’s talk about movies or music or something instead.”

“We could just go swimming and not talk at all.”

Nice. There was a big hint. “Are you saying I’m annoying you?”

“No. I just think that maybe you need to stop thinking so much and just do, you know what I’m saying?”

“No. I’m doing right now, aren’t I? And since when is talking thinking?”

His hand was still on the small of her back, big and warm. “I don’t believe you can talk without thinking.”

“You technically can’t swim without thinking, either. In fact, you can’t do anything without thinking.”

“But do you have to think so hard?”

Starting to feel criticized, she glanced up at him. “What exactly is your objection to thinking?”

He hesitated. “Would it sound completely bizarre if I said I just want you to enjoy yourself? That I feel bad that you’re here on your own dime and I want this to be a decent memory, not one you always look back on with total regret?”

She was touched. Genuinely. His expression showed that he meant it, but that it pained him to say it out loud. “Thanks. I can see that nearly killed you to say. How about we strike a deal? I will enjoy myself, and you’ll allow yourself to occasionally have feelings. Sound good?”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “Do I have to talk about them out loud?”

“Only if you want to. But you can express them nonverbally if you’d like.”

“You don’t even know what I want to express nonverbally right now. It would probably scare you.”

“Are you going to punch me?”

“What?” He looked shocked. “No, of course not.”

“Then why would I be scared?” She was hoping that he meant what she thought he meant. Something that involved him leaning over and kissing her.

He gave her a slow, devastating smile that went straight to her inner thighs. “I guess you wouldn’t be.” They had both stopped walking, and he turned completely to her. “You’re very complex, aren’t you?”

“I’m a people pleaser,” she told him truthfully. “Pragmatic, organized.”

“Yet secretly you’re a romantic.”

She was. She hadn’t had much opportunity, but she had her moments of gushing and sighing over True Love and the overblown gestures that could accompany it. Putting her hands up in an X, she said, “If you’re not going to talk about your feelings, I’m not going to talk about mine.”

“You said I can show mine nonverbally.”

“And you said I wouldn’t want to know what you were thinking.”

He stepped closer to her, and she stood her ground, even though she was flustered, curious about what he would do. He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, causing her to shudder, a deep ache springing up inside her.

“I’m thinking that if you’re not in danger, then there is no reason we can’t have a little fun together.”

Okay, so maybe he was attracted to her. That impression had been growing all day, and now there was no mistaking it. “What kind of fun?” she breathed, because she wanted to hear him say it out loud.

His eyes were dark with desire, and she could smell him and all his manly man perfection. “Naked fun.”

“Oh.” She swallowed hard. She wanted to. She really did. But she needed to think about it. She wasn’t one to dive into anything, least of all a man’s pants. If she slept with Hunter and it was disastrous, then she was stuck with him for six more days. She wasn’t on her A game. She needed a good night’s sleep and a list of pros and cons before she got naked. He was different from her usual bed partner, and frankly, she was feeling a touch insecure given how little desire Ian had had to tear up the sheets on a regular basis.

“I don’t think... I mean, Ian and I just broke up. Er, he just broke up with me. I don’t think I would be very fun in bed. Not tonight anyway.” His expression was completely unchanged. No reaction whatsoever as she spoke. Suddenly, she felt as if she was the biggest idiot in the world. Here a totally hot bodyguard was saying he wanted to have sex with her, and she was shying away from him? So she added, to keep the door open for later, “Maybe later this week?”

* * *

H
UNTER
CONTINUED
TO
stare at Melanie for a minute, not sure he was hearing her right. Was she freaking kidding? She was saying no, she did not want to have sex with him, but maybe she might be able to pencil him in for a bang later in the week? Who did that?

He got it. She was just hours out of a relationship. Maybe it was too soon to sleep with someone without it resulting in severe awkwardness. But she could at least let him kiss her before she decided. And throwing him a pity promise? She could keep it. Screw that. He didn’t want her sleeping with him because she didn’t know how to say no.

“Don’t do that,” he told her, sounding rougher than he intended. “Tell a man yes or no, never maybe. Know what you want.”

He was being brusque, but he heard her words and realized that was exactly how she had ended up being dumped by note card. She was right—she was a people pleaser. If he couldn’t have sex with her, he could at least help her see her own worth. She didn’t need to do anything just because a guy wanted her to.

Her eyes widened. “Then...no.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.” Stepping back, he created more space between them. He may not like her answer, but he was glad she’d stood up for herself. “Let’s go swimming.”

He should have kissed her. He should have made her want him first, before he’d thrown it out there that they should get naked. It had been an impulsive miscalculation on his part, and now all Hunter could think about was Melanie naked and how he would never get to see it.

She had changed into a bikini, but she was wearing a giant white cover-up over it. She had pulled her hair into a ponytail and was sporting sunglasses so that he couldn’t see her eyes. She had been almost completely silent since she had rejected him, which was unnerving. If there was one thing he’d learned about Melanie in the course of only one day, it was that she liked to talk. But now she was sitting at the pool on a lounge chair, idly flipping through a magazine. He was on his phone, searching the internet for Bainbridge’s photography.

Hunter wasn’t going to see Melanie naked or even in a bathing suit, since she was covered from knee to neck as thoroughly as a nun. So bored, frustrated and curious, he was stooping to the level of stalking her online. So far all he’d found was tiny shots of the nude series, and he couldn’t in any way distinguish the individuals in the picture, even when he enlarged it.

He would have expected Ian to check in with him, but he hadn’t. Hunter suspected that Melanie was right—there was no danger whatsoever. Ian had contracted him for a week just to have a built-in story to get Melanie on the plane. Which was the ultimate in cruel breakups. Hunter hoped the guy’s business tanked and he developed a painful rash on his balls. Melanie didn’t deserve to be treated like that.

Of course, Hunter had been something of a jerk himself, coming on too strong. She was mourning a lost relationship and he’d been all “hey, let’s get it on.” Smooth. But he’d spent the majority of his adult life with guys. What did he know about romance?

Nothing. A whole lot of nothing.

One photograph was more promising than the others. The crowd was smaller, and the individuals more spread out. The subjects were in and around a tree. Enlarging the photo, he saw Melanie immediately. Then was sorry he had. She was wearing panties and body paint and glasses, but nothing else. Her body was exactly as he’d imagined it—curvy and luscious with a nipped-in waist and perfect breasts. His mouth started to water, especially given the secret smile she was wearing, as if she was aware of how naughty she was being. It was a smile from one lover to another, and he wished it were directed at him.

She was painted brown, to look like bark, but his thoughts turned to chocolate and how he could drizzle it over her nipples and lick it off her, one teasing flicker at a time. Shifting in his beach chair, he drew his knees up to hide the fact that he was sporting a giant hard-on. Man, it had been such a long time since he’d buried himself in a woman.

“I’m going swimming,” he announced. The cold water would shrink his dick up soon enough. He’d keep an eye on Melanie from the pool.

She lowered her magazine. “Is the water cold?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t gone in yet.”

She made a face at him. “Well, report back.”

He thought about suggesting she get up and stick a toe in to find out for herself, but she’d probably throw her magazine at him. Melanie was in a mood, one he didn’t entirely understand. Was it him and his ill-timed come-on or was it Ian and his jerk move? No clue. So he just gave her a double thumbs-up. “I’m on it.”

That brought a smile to her face. “You’re not the double thumbs-up kind of guy.”

“What kind of guy am I?”

She hesitated. But then she said, “Dangerous.”

Hunter stood at her feet. “Good dangerous or bad dangerous?”

“Good dangerous. Sexy, not scary.” Melanie sat up and tossed her magazine down. “Maybe I’ll go in with you.”

Progress. Thinking he was sexy was a definite step in the right direction. She might not be willing to sleep with him, but at least he could freely ogle her. When she stood up, she peeled off her cover-up and revealed a perfect body in a red bikini. His breath caught.

When they got to the pool edge, Hunter sat down and dropped his feet in. It wasn’t bathwater, but it wasn’t frigid, either. It was a good temperature. He cupped some water in his hands, and without turning around hurled it at Melanie.

She squealed, then made little huffing sounds. Grinning, he turned to see her wiping water off her chest. Yes. Direct hit. “How is it?”

“It’s cold, jerk face.”

“It is not.”

“Then, splash yourself with it.”

“I will.”

As she gingerly eased herself down onto the concrete next to him, he splashed water over his arms and chest. It was refreshing.