Fighting Perfection (The Perfection Series Book 2) (5 page)

     Once I had pulled his trunks on and cinched the waist as tight as I possibly could, we paddled back to the boat.  I will not admit one way or another whether I got a glimpse of his toned, muscular (bright white!) backside.  I shimmied up the ladder as fast as I possibly could and ran toward the cabin.  I grabbed a lone towel draped over the back of a chaise lounge with no regard to whom it belonged and wrapped it around myself.  Once in the cabin, I dashed over to my bag and pulled out a pair of shorts with one hand while reaching under the towel with the other to undo the tie on James’ trunks.  I dragged them down as quickly as possible.  Getting into my smaller shorts was not nearly as easy.  Have you ever tried to put dry clothing on a wet body?  It’s not a simple task especially when you’re in a hurry, but I managed it in as little time as I could.

     I dashed back outside with James’ trunks in hand and ran to the ladder where he was still treading water.  I was just about to toss them back to him when I heard Grace’s voice.  I turned toward the sound as I discreetly dropped the trunks overboard.

     “There you are, Meems.  Hey wait, why are you dressed?  One trip down the slide and you’re done for the day?”

     “Oh, well, you know me.  There’s only so much excitement I can handle,” I said with only a slight tremble in my voice.

     “My Lord, you are a party pooper,” she said as she grabbed me by the arm.  “What you need is a proper cocktail.  This beer business isn’t going to cut it.  Come on, I’m sure there’s stuff behind the bar.”

     I started to stumble off behind her as she dragged me along.  James came climbing up the ladder, his shorts sagging quite nicely around his hips.  Clearly he’d just pulled them on, not bothering with the laces.  A visible and tantalizing strip of pale skin peeked from above his waistband, the rest of his body a tanned specimen of finely-toned muscle.  It was the first opportunity I had to really examine his physique.  He was very broad shouldered with thick muscles filling out his upper body.  His long legs were also powerfully built.  While not anywhere near    body-builder status, it was obvious that he was one strong man.  On his left pectoral muscle there was a tattoo that I couldn’t quite make out without giving away the fact that I was totally drooling over his body. 

     “Jammer!” Grace squealed.  “You’re just in time.  We’re about to raid the bar for some real drinks.  Come with us!”

     Grace dropped my arm in favor of his and started off toward the stairs to the upper deck, cooing and flirting with James all the way.  I merely shook my head and followed along behind them.

     Once we reached the upper deck, James slipped behind the bar and started pulling out bottles of liquor.  Vodka, tequila, whisky, gin, it all seemed to be available.

     “What’s your flavor, ladies?” he asked with a wink.

     “I’m sweet and tangy,” Grace purred, winking right back at him.

      I flopped down on one of the stools and leaned forward against the bar.  “I’ll just have whatever she’s having,” I said, humorlessly.  I didn’t know why, because Grace was always outrageous, but her overt flirting with James was getting on my nerves.  I didn’t have any claim on the man, but for some reason I was feeling a tad territorial.  I stuffed my grumbly feelings deep down and put on a bright smile.

     James studied the bottles closely as if he were running through a myriad of concoctions he could make for us.  Finally, he just shrugged his shoulders and said, “Okay.  Two Screwdrivers coming right up.”

     I reflexively thrust out my hand to stop him, shouting “No!” just as he reached for the bottle of Ketel One.  He jumped back a step and dropped the bottle back down on the bar.  He just looked at me with his mouth halfway open.

     “Don’t you dare befoul that vodka with something as vile as orange juice!” I exclaimed.

     “Befoul?” he asked quizzically.

     “Yes, befoul, contaminate, pollute, dirty, ruin…” I ticked off various synonyms on my fingers.

     “Is there some campaign against oranges that I’m not familiar with?” he asked.

     “There should be!” I huffed.  “Orange juice is the worst, most revolting beverage on the planet.”

     “No, it’s not.  That’s gin.  Orange juice is deliciously refreshing and good for you.”

     “It’s the devil’s juice!”  I hissed.

      Grace just rolled her eyes at me and turned to James, “She really hates orange juice.”

     “Really?  I was getting the sense that she was only so-so on it,” he drawled.  “Seriously, what kind of person hates orange juice?  That’s un-American.”

     “I know, right?” Grace chimed in.  “She even makes us promise not to order it before she’ll agree to have brunch with us.”

     “What?  It’s nauseating.  I don’t want to drink it, and I don’t want to watch other people ingesting it.  Would you want to watch me eat haggis?” I asked, arching a brow at her.

     “Well, no…,” she commented with a disgusted look on her face.

     “Wait a minute, are you saying you’d eat haggis?” James asked disbelievingly.

     “No!  Of course not.  My point is just that there are some things that don’t belong in one’s mouth.”

     “Mimi!  It’s just fruit!” Grace exclaimed as James tried hard to disguise a snort with a fake cough.

     “So is grapefruit, and I won’t drink its juice, either!” I half-shouted back to her.

     “Okay,” James said, coughing into his fist again.  “Clearly we have citrus issues here.”

     “No, we don’t.  I like lemons, limes, and tangerines just fine.”

     “Isn’t a tangerine just a little orange?” James asked.  “You know what? Never mind.  We’ll go with what you had last night.  Two Greyhounds.”

     James pulled out a large jug of cranberry juice from the refrigerator under the bar as Jessica and Liz walked over to join us, both of them dripping wet and laughing.

     “Hey,” Liz began.  “Are you all done swimming for the day already?”

     “No,” Grace giggled.  “We’re just having a little refresher before going again.  Jammer here is making us some cocktails.  I’m sure he’ll make you each one too, if you ask him nicely,” Grace said with a glance at James and another flirtatious smile.

     “Well, sign us up!” Liz said as she pulled up and sat on the stool next to me.  “How did you like your trip down the slide, Mimi?”

     “It was…fun?” I hedged.

     “It was more than fun,” James said.  “It was actually quite enlightening.  Almost a spiritual experience.”

     “A spiritual experience?” Jessica questioned as she leaned against the bar on the other side of Liz.  “How is that?”

     “I almost saw…,” he began.

     “Dolphins!”  I blurted out.  James just smirked at me.

     “Dolphins?” Liz looked at me dubiously.  “That’s interesting, considering we’re on a lake and not the ocean.”

      I cringed inwardly at my thoughtless remark and did my best to cover.  “That’s why we say almost.  It was…,”

     “It was blue, anyway,” James finished for me with a wink.

     “I always thought dolphins were kind of a gray color,” Jessica said.

     “I think you’re thinking of a porpoise,” Liz said thoughtfully.

     Grace, not wanting to be left out, piped up, “Since we know it couldn’t have been dolphins, I wonder what you did see.”

    “You done with those drinks there, James?” I said, doing my best to change the subject.  He simply grinned as he began placing the beverages in front of each of us.  I quickly took a drink of mine as I desperately tried to think of a way to steer the conversation away from the truth we were dangerously skirting.  Just then, someone turned on some music.  I never felt more relieved to hear Ed Sheeran singing to us about ripped jeans.

    “Mimi, down that drink and come dance with me,” James said as he rounded the bar and came to grab my hand that didn’t have a drink in it.  Desperate to get away from any potential talk about my bottomless state, I chugged down my drink and slapped the glass down on the bar.  I didn’t think about how the rapid ingestion of alcohol might affect me, especially since I hadn’t yet had lunch.  I just wanted to get the hell away from any potential talk about my wardrobe malfunction.

     James led me to an open space on the deck.  He pulled me into his arms, and we began to slowly move to the music.  “Got a little nervous there for a minute, didn’t you?” he asked with a smirk.

     “Oh no.  Not even a little bit.  Of course, I want you to tell everyone about how I was bottomless with you for about five minutes.  They’d be tremendously impressed.”

     “In that case, the next time you’re half-naked with me, I’ll remember to take out a front page ad in the Los Angeles Times.”

     I snorted.  “Good thing there’s no danger there.  I have no intention of getting any kind of naked with you again, whatsoever.”

     “You didn’t plan on it today either, did you?” he asked as we rocked slightly back and forth to the music.  It was nice to dance again (if you could call what we were doing dancing), but this guy was no Vance when it came to cutting a rug.  Vance would have had me turning and moving all over the space we were dancing in.  This guy was barely moving.  Still, I was enjoying it.

     I stammered and turned bright red.  “Let’s change the subject to a less provocative conversation.  What do you do for work?” I said, thinking this was a safe, benign topic.

     “I’m in the U.S. Navy,” he replied.  “I’m a fighter pilot.”

     I snorted.  I was really going to have to stop doing that lest he think I was half donkey.  “Sure you are.  Everyone in the Navy is either a fighter pilot or a S.E.A.L. as far as I can tell from the men I have met.”

    “I don’t need to impress anyone, Kitten.  It’s just what I do, not who I am,” he said softly.

    I smiled in response.  “Don’t call me Kitten.”

    “What do you do?” he asked in return.

    “Oh…well…,” I replied slowly.  I hated this question since I was technically unemployed.  It always led to the inevitable follow-up question of ‘Where do you get the money to live?’  If I told the truth, I ran the risk of people thinking I was lazy or pretentious.  I couldn’t exactly fib to James after I’d already been caught in a lie.  I tried to be honest without telling the whole truth.  “I used to be a paralegal.”

     “That doesn’t answer my question, so I’ll just assume you work for McDonald’s now,” he smirked.

     I grinned and replied, “Maybe I do.”

     “Where are you from, then?” he asked as his hands lightly caressed my back.

    “I am Los Angeles born and bred.  I live still there today,” I said with no little amount of pride.  We natives loved to distinguish ourselves from the herds of people who arrived daily and tried to claim our city for their own.

    “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who actually knows exactly where they’ve been bred, then boasts about it.”

    I flushed again.  This man was exasperating.  So far, I hadn’t been able to expect the things he said.  He somehow made me feel like I was always on the back foot.  “I just mean that’s where I was raised.  My God, you are a pain in my ass.”

    “I’ll show you a pain in your ass,” he retorted.

    Good Lord, I’d attracted another pervert.  He wasn’t dorky about it like Vance was, but he wasn’t what I’d call smooth, either.  Just then a faster song came on, and we pulled apart to dance freestyle, thereby saving me from responding.

    Later on and many drinks later, we slowly pulled back into the docking area.  We were all a little sauced except for Zach who limited his intake in order to be able to operate the boat.  Our original plan had been to anchor somewhere on the lake for the night, but Zach remembered seeing a bar with a beach theme that he wanted to visit.  We also wanted to find a place to eat since we drank right through lunch, and all the guys had brought to eat were snacks.  While Grace applauded their lack of forethought saying it was her mission to stay as drunk and near naked as possible for the trip, the rest of us wanted to be able to relax for the night without getting sick or passing out.  We found a Mexican restaurant not far from the bar Zach had mentioned and stuffed ourselves with chips and salsa and various dishes we thought might soak up some of the alcohol.  I didn’t know if this was the wisest of plans considering most intended to continue drinking.  I, for one, resolved to not spend quality time hugging the only toilet on the boat and switched to soda though I watched everyone else enjoy Margaritas with their meal.

     When we got to the bar, it was packed full of people.  It seemed as though everyone who had been out on the lake during the day was there.  It shouldn’t have surprised me considering it seemed to be the only real sort of nightlife the little town offered, but since I’d never been to Lake Havasu before, it did.   The place had a pool area to sit and relax which was less densely populated. After getting our drinks, we all grabbed a seat outside where someone had already pulled a few chairs and lounges into something of a circle.

     “Pumpkin,” Zach began.  “Haven’t you ever heard of sunscreen?” 

     We all looked over at him and sure enough, he was sporting a kind of fuchsia shade on his face and upper body.  Jessica smirked and said, “Looks like our Pumpkin has become a Lobster.  You need a new fairy godmother, dude.”