Moonlight and Margaritas (2 page)

The music stopped and a slower beat filled the void.  "Let's dance," Mercedes said, tucking her arm around her young hunk.  "I want to feel those hard muscles of yours pressed against my body." 

The guy widened his eyes, and Elena choked on air.  "Muy caliente," he said, pulling Mercedes into his arms.  "It'll be my pleasure." 

Mercedes's laugh faded as they headed for the dance floor.

Okay, then.  All Elena needed to do was follow in her friend's footsteps.  She hadn't left her precious flower shop in Carmel to come to Mexico for just the sun.  No, she'd spent almost three years building a business that could support her, and the time had come to take the next step.  She was determined to remove the weeds from her personal life and see it flourish as well.

Decision made.  She downed the rest of her margarita.  Reaching into her purse, she reapplied her lipstick.  It might not be siren red, but midnight mauve would have to do.  She steeled her nerves.  This was nothing compared to some of the things she'd done in her life, like garnering the courage to file for divorce and strike out on her own. 

She could do this.  She would ask him to dance.  It was a step forward.

Through the crowd, she focused on her target and rose.  She tried not to pay too much attention to how young and beautiful everyone was as she wound her way through the partying mass of people.

In what seemed like mere seconds, she found herself only feet from the object of her attention, and she panicked.  She hung back from the bar, positioning herself so she could see him without being obvious.

Up close, he was even better-looking, making her nerves quiver with excitement.  Dark brows slanted over sexy bedroom eyes.  Dimples creased his cheeks as he talked to a Hawaiian-shirt-clad man sitting next to him at the bar.  Her target's white shirt was open at the neck, and she could see the outline of his muscled chest that lay beneath.  He was more than hot, and she was beyond intimidated.  She lifted her chin, determined to project confidence.

She just needed to say hi, right?  And act interested.  Mercedes had said to let him know she wanted him.  She took a step, her feet wobbling in her three-inch heels.

Damn it.  She was only a few steps away, but she just couldn't do it.  She stopped and faced away from him, pretending something had caught her eye while she took a moment to hunt down her suddenly-absent courage.

She desperately wanted to break out of the safe little shell she'd created for herself after her divorce.  She wanted to live again, laugh again, have a damn orgasm again.  She would do this.

Elena forced a calming breath, turned back, and froze.  The man stared straight at her.  Dark, unreadable eyes watched her without a hint of a smile or invitation on his face.

Oh, god.

Instead of approaching him, she turned to the left and found herself face-to-face with a younger guy sporting cropped, sun-bleached hair.  He wasn't the tall, dark and handsome man she'd hoped to meet, but his baby face seemed much safer than what she'd just encountered.

"Hello," she said, trying to act as if it hadn't been forever since she'd flirted with a man. 

"Hey."  The blonde smiled, his gaze traveling the length of her, stalling on the deep vee of her dress.  Interest sparked in his gaze.

She hesitated, unsure what to say next.  "I saw you sitting over here..."  She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, hoping the pain would bolster her nerves.  "You seem familiar.  Have we met before?"  She put her hand on his arm like Mercedes had done with her hunk.  She prayed she came across as sexy instead of a complete idiot.

"Don't think so."  He shook his head, but kept smiling and that encouraged her to continue. 

"No?  Then let me introduce myself.  My name's Elena.  What's yours?"

The spark of interest Joe Stephens had spotted in the most fascinating pair of green eyes had stopped him dead in his tracks.  His brain had fired off several rounds of "say something to her", before his mouth had decided to react.  By the time he'd regained his composure, the beautiful blonde had turned on her killer stilettos and had approached another guy. 

Come on.
 He couldn't believe it.  She'd picked a punk kid over him?  That was a blow to the ego.  And since when had
he
been at a loss for words?

Joe had spotted the classic beauty the moment she'd walked in.  Okay, he'd noticed her flamboyant friend first—how could he miss the luscious curves—but the engaging blonde had quickly stolen his attention.  For the past twenty minutes, he'd kept her on his radar, wondering if he should ask her to dance.  Now, it appeared he'd hesitated too long.  Story of his life.

She reminded him of his first love.  Touch-me breasts, beautiful smile, and enchanting eyes.  Definitely a classy lady.  He wasn't sure if anything that tempting had ever walked through the doors of Mojitos during the six weeks he'd been there. 

Not him, sweetheart
.  Joe gave a slight shake of his head as the blonde continued to speak to the punk.  He frowned, confused by her choice of men.  Joe had obviously missed something in his assessment of her.  That punk was way below her status.  What could she possibly want with him?

Luckily the band had taken a break, allowing Joe to hear her conversation.  She was nervous, anxiety flickering in her dark eyes, and she had an enchanting way of continuously twining her fingers together.  Both were great tell-tales of her inexperience at the singles' bar games.  He liked that about her, liked that she was more innocent than jaded.  He'd snorted when she'd choked out her lame pick up line—the oldest line in the book.  Still, he had to admit she'd charmed him. 

Joe lifted his bottle, taking a drink of beer while he watched her over the rim.  Her gaze darted around the room as she spoke, but it never quite landed on him again.  She nipped her bottom lip between her teeth while she waited for her young conquest to reply.  Joe took in the curves of her tempting body.  Unfortunate loss for him.

That kid wouldn't know how to handle a woman like her.  Didn't even deserve the chance.  He might be young and pumped, but he'd never satisfy her. 
Run, sweetheart, run.  Before you do something you'll regret.

The woman didn't move.

Apparently she was too distracted to read Joe's mind.  He sighed in frustration as the woman put her hand on the punk's arm again, and Joe turned away, knowing her touch was a come-on.  The final blow. 

He should kick himself for not approaching her when she'd first walked in.  He finished his drink, and reconsidered his thoughts.  Actually, what did he care?  She was nothing more than one in a long line of women who'd come to Cabo looking for excitement.  If he didn't hook up with her, there would always be someone else.

"Pay up, honky," Marcus barked as he elbowed him in the ribs.  "Fifty bucks says I'm right that she would go for a younger guy.  Look at her.  She's a woman who knows what she wants, and it ain't you."

Shit.  That's why he cared.  He hated to lose a bet.  That pretty lady had just cost him a Grant.  "Yeah, yeah," Joe replied.  He narrowed his eyes, glaring at his new-found buddy who had a fondness for ridiculous Hawaiian shirts.  "But I'm putting you on notice.  Come tomorrow, if you can't dig up something to wear that's not so hard on the eyes, I'm not sitting by you.  You're giving me a headache."

"What's wrong with my shirt?"  The hick's eyebrows knitted together as he glanced down at his attire and then back at Joe.  "I wouldn't knock it, if I were you.  I'm the one who's taking home all the ladies."

"Whatever."  Joe chuckled, but Marcus spoke the truth.  His cowboy friend had gone home with a different woman every night that week.  "I could have if I'd wanted to, and besides, you haven't landed that blonde yet."

"You haven't landed anyone.  Did your dick shrivel up and fall off?"  Marcus snorted.  Joe decided he was going to find a new drinking buddy tomorrow night regardless of whether or not Marcus found a new shirt.  Joe had come to Cabo to relax and unwind from life.  Not to put up with this kind of shit.

Joe narrowed his eyes.  "You wish.  They're only going with you because I'm not asking." 

Marcus swiveled his seat toward the dance floor, laughing.  "Keep thinking what you want, and I'll keep gettin' laid."

His crazy friend's comments gave him pause.  Maybe he did need to see a doctor.  There were tons of gorgeous women hanging around the resort, and yet, he hadn't made a play for any of them. 

He downed a hearty swallow of beer, the liquid forcing its way through his constricted throat.  Could he be losing his sex drive?  Shit, he wasn't even forty yet. 

The thought sobered him.

After his long-time girlfriend had broken up with him, he'd sailed his boat from California to Cabo for a few months, thinking that pursuing his love of diving, drinking and women would give meaning to his life.  It sure hadn't held much value while he'd been with Kathy.  So, he'd left the family shipping business in his sister's capable hands and headed south for what he was sure would be paradise.

Six weeks later, the sun, sparkling blue water and barely-there bikinis hadn't made him any happier.

Who knew what his problem was?  He sure as hell didn't…but he did know he was losing his touch when it came to reading people.  He studied the hot blonde again.  How could he have been so wrong about her?  He pulled out his wallet, not happy that he'd lost more money.

"Guess you lost your touch, huh?" 

Joe slapped the fifty on the bar between him and his newfound friend.  "Guess so, Marcus."  It turned out the young Texan wasn't as dumb as he'd like people to think.  "Just remember, tonight's your last chance to land the blonde you've had your eye on, or you'll be giving this back to me."

Marcus and Joe both glanced at the athletic young blonde with an obvious boob-job who sat at the other end of the bar doing shots with her friends.  She was drunker than drunk, had been for the past three nights, and had ignored Marcus each time he'd tried to snag her attention.  He and Joe had bet on his chances with her the first night, but she hadn't given Marcus a second glance.  Joe felt sorry for Marcus and let him up his bet a couple of times.  If his friend didn't score tonight, Joe had a chance to break even, which was good because he hated to lose.

Hell.

It wasn't that he needed the money.  It was more for sport.  That and he also hated to be wrong.  But he'd been wrong tonight.  He was so sure his classic blonde would have gone for the rich businessman type—like himself when he wasn't incognito.

The unforgettable dress, the updo, diamonds in her ears.  Everything about her spoke elegance.  What did she want some young punk for?  Joe frowned. 

Restless, Joe left his barstool and wandered closer to the ill-suited couple.  There were enough people standing around that he could get within a few feet and not be noticed.  Perhaps if he watched her longer, he could figure out where he'd gone wrong in his assessment.

As Joe neared her, his senses sharpened.  The club was filled with beautiful women, but she was different.  She looked like she had more…depth to her.      

He stopped a few paces behind her, catching a whiff of an engaging feminine scent, instinctively knowing it was hers.

"I'm here on vacation with a friend," she said.  Joe listened to the woman's unnecessary chatter.  "We just arrived today."  Definitely nervous, but charmingly so. 

"Oh, yeah?" the kid answered.  "Me, too."

Joe turned enough that he could see the object of her attention.  The punk's gaze was fixed on the deep valley between her breasts, a predatory look on his dumb face.  He really wanted to send that kid running home to mama.

Elena sucked in another breath, trying to still the impulse to bolt.  The conversation stalled, again, and she didn't know what to say next.  Mercedes had no clue how hard this could be. 

The hunk was obviously interested in her.  He couldn't take his eyes off her chest, and damn it, she had a point to prove.  She was still attractive to men.

Wasn't she?

The rebel in her insisted she find out. 

She tossed her head, and then wished she'd worn her hair down like Mercedes.  It was time to make a bold move.  She slid her hand up his bicep, feeling the hardness beneath her palm.  "Do you want to dance?"

His gaze moved upward, his attention refocusing on her face.  "What?  Dance?  Yeah."  He grinned.

She glanced at the dance floor where she could see Mercedes and her man.  They were so close, their bodies practically one.  She looked back.  Now was her chance.

"Let's go.  I want to rub my body all over you."  She swallowed her embarrassment.  That sounded nothing like Mercedes's invitation.

A man behind her choked, sending heat rushing to her cheeks.  So, she didn't have Mercedes's finesse.  So what?

She turned, ready to tell whomever it was to mind his business.  Instead, she was shocked into silence when she realized the stranger with the interesting eyes stood only a few feet from her, but it looked like he was with another group of people.  Perhaps, she'd been wrong thinking someone had laughed at
her
.  There were so many people crammed into one area.  It was probably just her under-confident imagination.