Moonlight and Margaritas (7 page)

"Ouch."  Mercedes filled the vacant space at the window.  "He doesn't seem too happy."

"Get back.  He'll see you."  Elena tried to pull her friend away, but Mercedes wouldn't budge.

"Damn.  He's fine, girlfriend.  Tell me again why you're ditching him?"

"I'm not
ditching
him.  I had the most amazing night that I'll never, ever regret, but it's over.  He shouldn't expect anything else." 
She
didn't want—or expect—anything from him.  They'd agreed on no strings attached.  "In fact, he's the one who told me last night that he wasn't looking for anything complicated.  He should be grateful I made it so easy on him this morning."

She'd wondered if she should have pushed him out the door last night when they'd finally satiated themselves, but it had felt entirely too good lying in his arms, his strong, warm body next to hers.  She'd fallen asleep listening to his even breathing and hadn't woken until sunrise.

It had seemed a sin to leave him lying there alone this morning when she'd gathered some clothes and crept out.  His tousled hair had looked cute against her pillow, the sheet barely covering his tempting body, but it was best this way.  He'd been too good, too sweet to her, and it was far too easy to see her wanting more from their relationship.  Those kinds of thoughts were dangerous to her, and if he had to suffer a little disappointment to spare her that fate, well, that was why no one should ever have any expectations with a one-night stand. 

"Really, Mercedes.  I don't want or need anything from him beyond last night."  She tried to divert her friend's attention away from the window, not wanting to be seen.  "What I want is to be like you.  Free to live my life and enjoy it for all it's worth."

Mercedes continued to stare through the glass.  "No, Elena.  You don't want to be like me.  You're destined for better things." 

Her friend's reply surprised her.  "You okay?"  She looked closer at Mercedes's profile, wondering if she'd missed something.  Elena had been so obsessed with Joe that she hadn't asked how her friend's evening had panned out.

Mercedes turned to her with a grin.  "What are you talking about?  Of course, I'm fine.  Estoy bien.  The only thing wrong here is you letting that man walk away."

Elena studied her friend, not at all convinced that Mercedes was telling the truth. 

Mercedes ignored her, letting out a slow whistle instead.  "He looks good without a shirt.  If you're sure you don't want him anymore, can I have him?"

"What do you mean, without a shirt?"  She scooted in next to Mercedes catching a glimpse of Joe strutting around the corner of the building away from them.  His tanned back glowed under the sun, reminding her of how glorious it was to have his skin beneath her fingertips. 

Elena ignored the desire that flared at the sight of him and turned away as he disappeared out of sight.  "No, you can't have him."  And where the hell was his shirt?

Joe pushed open the door of the coffee hut, half-naked.  Even though it was well before noon, a cold blast of air conditioning greeted him, giving him goosebumps.  The potted palms and the bamboo walls made it seem like he was in the tropics, but the cold air rivaled a frozen daiquiri. 

Damn.  He crossed his arms in front of him while he waited in line. 

A good portion of the people at the resort spent most of their days half-clothed, so he wouldn't appear out of place, but right now a hot cup of java would go a long way in dispelling his disappointment and irritation, not to mention thawing him out.  He ordered a cup to go and scanned the room while he waited.

His gaze alighted on a smug Marcus who grinned at him while a twenty-something bleach-blonde nearly crawled onto his lap in an attempt to suck his neck.  The woman's large breasts strained against her halter top, looking as though they'd break free at any minute.  Joe recognized her from the bar last night.  Obviously, Marcus had convinced the blonde to give him a try, and apparently, she liked what she found.

Shit.  He'd never hear the end of this.

The waitress handed over his coffee.  Joe thanked her, nodded an acknowledgment to Marcus and headed for the door.

"Hey, Joe," Marcus called out.

Joe stopped, hesitated and then pivoted around.  "Hey, Marcus."  He really didn't want to have this conversation right now.

"Have a good night?" 

The blonde removed her mouth from his neck and turned toward Joe.  She gave him a sloppy smile. 

Hell, she was still completely wasted.  Joe wondered how big her regret would be when she finally sobered up.  "I had a great night."

A wicked glint lit Marcus's eyes.  "I saw you dancing with your little honey.  Did y'all…you know?"

Here was his chance to get back his money and prove to Marcus that his dick hadn't shriveled up.  In fact, it had worked pretty damn well.  He opened his mouth and inhaled.  "Nah," he said on a sigh.  "Nothing happened."

Marcus snorted.  "Too bad, man."  He ran a finger beneath the halter strap of his latest conquest, coming damn near to actually copping a feel right there in public.  "That's just too damn bad."

Joe gave him a weak smile and left.  He should have said something.  Should have told Marcus exactly how many times and in what positions he'd taken Elena the night before…but he couldn't do it.  Couldn't reduce one of the best nights of his life down to a bet.  Did Elena deserve it after deserting him that morning?  Maybe.  But he still couldn't do it.

Thankfully, Joe only had one more stop before he could head back to his cabin cruiser that he called home during his stay in Cabo. 

As soon as Elena departed for her bungalow, Mercedes Benitez made a beeline for the front desk of the hotel.  After watching Elena take a huge step out of her shell, she could not let her friend slink back in.

Mercedes could handle a lot of things.  She could tolerate being called a slut—at least most of the time.  Her family and friends had accepted her lifestyle and loved her for who she was.  She wasn't about to let Elena's assistant, also known as "that bitch Carmen" make her feel like less of a person because she chose to live her life according to her own rules.  No one got to tell her how to live her life.  No one.

She could also handle being paid less than she was worth at her job because she loved nursing and working with underprivileged kids.  But the one thing she couldn't handle any longer was watching Elena be so unhappy.  Elena was her sister in every way but blood, and la familia was the most important thing to Mercedes.

When she'd first proposed their carefree trip, Elena had balked.  She'd used every excuse she could find to not go—her flower shop, her daughter, everything, but Mercedes knew better than most that persistence pays off.

The smile on her friend's face last night when she'd danced with that hot-looking Joe had been worth every bit of pleading and cajoling.  Elena needed to be reminded of how to live, not just to exist, and Mercedes was the perfect person to show her.  There had to be something that the hotel offered that would keep Elena living on the edge until she remembered that life wasn't only about work.  Something that would keep her out of her shell until she realized she liked it better on the outside.

Mercedes's high heels clipped on the marble tiles as she entered the lobby and headed for the concierge's desk.  She recognized the salt and peppered gentleman from the day before when they'd checked in.  "Buenos dias, Mr. Gelinas," she purred, giving him a sweet smile.  She'd found men always responded better when she used that approach.

"Buenos dias, Ms. Benitez.  Is your bungalow to your liking?"

"Absolutely."  She tossed her hair over her shoulder and leaned forward on his counter.  "What I need is something to occupy me and my friend today.  Something that will take her mind off the hot-blooded man she met last night."  She flashed him a bright smile.  "Do you have anything like that?"

The older gentleman blushed and cleared his throat.  "Is Ms. Porter okay?  Her friend from last night didn't treat her poorly, did he?  I'll not be having my guests abused."

Mercedes sighed, a little jealous over her friend's enchanted night.  She'd never had a guy offer to rub
her
feet.  "No, I believe Joe behaved like the perfect gentleman.  It's just…"  She paused and leaned closer still, hoping the concierge would understand this was a private conversation.  "Well…they had their fling, and she insists that she can't see him again even though I know she likes him.  So, now we need something else exciting.  She's come through a hard time recently, and I want this to be the best vacation ever for her.  Do you understand?"

Mr. Gelinas furrowed his thick brows.  "Si, Ms. Benitez, I do understand.  Trust me, I've been at this hotel for quite some time and have seen it all.  What I don't understand is if she likes him, why she does not want to see him again?  Perhaps, I'm old-fashioned, but I must admit that I know the gentleman that you're referring to, and I believe him to be a good man."

Mercedes gestured upward with her hands.  "See?  You get it.  I tell her she's crazy, but she won't listen.  So can you help me?  More than anything else, I want to see her happy."

A quiet grin spread across the concierge's face, his lips curling beneath his bushy mustache.  "I have the perfect solution for you."

Joe pushed through the rotating doors of the main hotel located on the campus of Elena's resort, the air-conditioned atmosphere once again chilling him.  What was wrong with these people and their temperature controls?  Cool, yes.  Frigid, no.  He took a sip of hot coffee and made his way toward the check-in counter.

Mario Gelinas stood at the concierge's desk to the side of check-in, talking to a shapely dark-haired woman.  Mario glanced up, his smile turning to a frown over what Joe was sure was Mario's disapproval of his attire.  Or lack of it.

As Joe passed the desk, heading for the back room, he glanced at the woman talking to Mario and nearly sloshed his coffee.  Wasn't that Elena's friend?

The woman sent him a full-bodied smile which Joe returned before he entered the office. 

The room was quiet except for the hum of two computers.  Joe planted himself in one of the office chairs and waited for Mario.  A minute later, the older gentleman joined him.

"Morning, Mario.  You're here early, considering you worked the late shift last night."

The concierge's frown deepened.  "Where's your shirt?"

"Ah, well, that's the question of the morning."  Joe was pretty sure Mario could use his powers of deduction and make as good a guess as Joe on the whereabouts of his shirt.

Mario didn't seem to approve of his attempt at humor.  "I understand, Joe, that you're not technically staff here at the hotel, but if you're going to come into the back offices, you will need to be appropriately dressed.  We do have an image…"

Joe resisted an eye roll.  All he needed to top off his morning was a lecture on how to dress.  He knew how to dress.  He wore a tie nearly every day that he'd worked at Stephens Shipping.  That was one of the things he'd enjoyed leaving behind.  "Of course.  I just stopped by to pick up my passenger list for this morning, and then I'll take my unprofessional appearance out of the hotel."

Mario considered him for a moment and then turned to the computer.  "Give me a minute to print it."  The concierge typed on the keyboard, clicked his mouse and a sheet of paper slid from the printer. 

Joe picked it up, smiled, and said his goodbyes. 

He needed a hell of a shower to wash away the morning's frustrations.

Elena pushed up her sunglasses, wishing desperately that she could adjust her bikini instead.  Her new black swimsuit didn't fit her as well as she'd hoped, and it seemed determined to creep up her left butt cheek.  She couldn't very well adjust it, though, standing amidst the small group of divers—all of them men, except her and Mercedes—on the sunny dock while they waited for their guide to arrive.

Elena shifted, trying to get her bikini bottom to move, and she bumped Mercedes in the process.  Her friend frowned at her.  "Are you okay?  You know you don't need to be nervous."

"Are you kidding me?  Coming face-to-face with a 60,000 pound whale shark doesn't intimidate you in the slightest?"  In all actuality, her rogue bikini was the least of her worries.

"They don't attack," said the older, balding man standing in front of her.

Elena sent him a smile that said "mind your own business".  He widened his eyes and turned away.

"That's what makes it so fun, chica.  The danger, the excitement.  That's what you're looking for, remember?"  Mercedes nudged her arm.  "Just relax.  You're going to have the best time ever."

Elena was still not sure how her friend had gotten her to agree to cancel their relaxing day at the beach in favor of a diving expedition, but she was pretty sure the phrase,
enjoy life before we get too old
, and the threat of searching out Joe for her entertainment had something to do with it.  Mercedes could be very persuasive. 

She shifted again, and Mercedes frowned.  "It's my bikini, all right?" she whispered.  "It's hiked halfway up my rear-end."

"Oh.  Hate that."  Mercedes gave her a look that seemed more like she was laughing at her than commiserating.  "But look, here comes our boat."