Running From Destiny (4 page)

“You said you had a head
ache, I was trying to ease the pain for you a little.” He groaned in my ear.

“Y-yes.
” I stutter again, Shit! What the hell has happened to my lips? They worked fine a while ago. “I’ll just go get some aspirin.” And I step away, making a bee line toward the bedroom.

I walk in and slam the door. I don’t mean to slam it.
Yes, actually I do. I’m not happy having a room full of people I don’t know, so I lock the door and flop on the bed covering my eyes with my arm. As soon as I do, those emerald green eyes appear on the back of my eye lids. Those eyes.....crap. They’re beautiful, but full of trouble I’m sure.

After a few seconds, or it could have been an hour for all I know, I roll off and g
o in search of my cosmetic bag. I keep basic stuff in there, band aids, antacids, and.....aspirin. I grab the plastic wrapped glass on the counter and fill it with water. I don’t do well with pills, so I have to chug a full glass of water just to get a small pill down. God I’m such a loser.

I stand there and stare at myself in the mirror wondering why in the hell the Suit gets to
me so bad. I chuckle inside, guess I don’t have to call him that anymore since I know now he has a name. Jackson Bentley. Even the name is sexy. I have to admit, he is gorgeous and probably commands attention, both inside and outside of the bedroom. Too bad I’ll never know for sure, because I’m about to kick everyone out of the room. Including, but not limited to The Suit.

Chapter 5

Actua
lly, I don’t kick everyone out. I just crawl back in the bed and turn off the light. If they want to party until the wee hours of the morning, more power to them. I can hear them out there playing drinking games, laughing and I could swear, someone is having sex on the balcony. Gross! Who does that? Thankfully I don’t have to clean up after them.

I believe that I had vaguely hear
d Heather knocking on the door a few times, and maybe even The Suit, but I ignore it. It’s hard to pay attention with the throbbing going on in my head. That’s what I get for having one too many drinks. Yeah yeah, I know. I only had two, but drinking is not my forte, and since one is typically enough, two was excessive. I finally drift into a heavy slumber.

When I wake up, it’s
quiet. Eerily quiet actually. I peer at the bright digital clock on the end table and it tells me it’s six a.m. Wow, I really slept all night. I’m on my side facing the clock and raise my arms over my head for a good stretch, while rolling to my back. As I bring my arms down, I realize I’m not alone. It’s still dark in the room thanks to the heavy drapes on the windows, but I can tell it’s definitely a body next to me.

Assuming
its Heather, I roll to my other side and take in the scene before me. Messy dark blonde hair, strong jaw covered in a bit of stubble. Full, sexy lips curled up into a sexy smile. And emerald eyes, staring right back at me. I jump out of bed and stand up, shaking my head thinking I’m dreaming. I rip open the drapes to add some light to the room, only it’s still dark. Shit. I knew this, good thinking Al.

I turn back toward
the bed and turn on the lamp. He’s on his side facing me, head up and resting on his hand. The sheets are low across his waist and he doesn’t have a shirt on. I’m speechless.

A light dusting of hair cover his chest and amazing p
ectorals. Yes, I did say amazing. I’ve only ever seen pecs like that in magazines. The light hair continues down 4, no 6 rippling abdominal muscles. He has an actual six pack. Then the hair disappears below the sheet, and hopefully under his pants. God, I hope he has pants on.

“See something you like?” He asks, jolting me out of my perusal of his body. Busted!

“Umm, excuse me.
What are you doing here and where is Heather?”

“First of all, you n
eed to quit excusing yourself. Second of all, I was worried when you didn’t come back to the party so I came into check on you. I was tired and your bed looked comfy, so I crawled in. Thirdly, Heather is fine and sleeping soundly in my room.” His eyes twinkle back at me.

Damn, Heather is really g
oing to get it when I see her. I’ve had it with her manipulating tactics to fix me up. When will she figure out that I don’t want to be fixed up? “Yeah, well. I’m fine now, you can go. Thanks for keeping me company, I think.”

I shuffle into t
he bathroom and shut the door. Wait, I locked the bedroom door when I came in last night. How in the hell did he get in here? Did I even want to know? No, I’m thinking not. I just want him to go. I can’t think straight around him.

I pee and brush my teeth, then drag a brush through my hair and pul
l it up into a messy pony tail. Well, more like a nub since my hair isn’t quite long enough for a full on tail. When I go back out into the room, The Suit’s gone. Did I imagine him? No, surely not. I took aspirin last night, not LSD. Then I hear someone in the living area moving about. Heather, she’d better be prepared for a fight, because I’m going to kill her.

I yan
k the door open and no Heather. But The Suit is still here, picking up and throwing away beer and wine bottles. I scan the room and take it all in. “Damn, must have been some party last night.” I say as I spy the trash bag full of glass bottles.

“Yep, you missed all the fun, especially Spin the Bottle.” He replies w
ith a laugh.

“Ah, no.
I missed nothing then. I had a much better time in bed.”

“Did you now?” His eyes pierced through me.

“Look, I don’t know who you are or what you want. But it’s time for you to go back to your room. Send Heather back here so we can have a little chat please.” I turn my back to him. I want him to go, but at the same time I don’t. He truly is easy on the eyes, but so far out of my league. Like, really uncomfortable. Never has a man caused me to stutter and lose my train of thought.

Calm, c
ool and collected Ally Sanders. Some might call that Little Goody Two Shoes. I think Adam Ant wrote a song about me, actually. But right now, I’m not having Goody Two Shoes thoughts. Right now, my thoughts are far from good. He stands there with his hands on his hips. His dress pants from last night on, but no shirt and my eyes take a plunge toward the v that dips below his belt.

Damn he’s hot!
Like, should be on the cover of a romance novel hot. That’s the only place I have ever seen a chest like that. He’s taller than I had originally thought, had to be 6’4”, and pure muscle. He must work out.

I knock my head with the heel of m
y hand, of course he works out. Idiot. Seriously, I amaze myself sometimes. He just stands there looking at me. Shit, did I say that out loud? I let out a frustrated growl, but he doesn’t respond to my demand for him to leave, he just stands there. Those green eyes travel from my face, slowly down to my toes and back up to my eyes, causing a shiver to erupt. He laughs. He knows the affect he’s having on me, an affect that no man has ever had on me.

Arrogant bastard.

“Have breakfast with me.” He says. He didn’t ask, he simply made a statement. Okay brain, time to work again without screwing up the brain to mouth filter

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mister Bentley.”

“Ahhh, so you do remember my name. And you will have breakfast with me. Then we’ll go kick Heather out of my room and you can proceed with her murder.” He says with amusement.

“But why?
Why would you want to have breakfast with me?” I lower my eyes to the floor and notice my pink fuzzy slipper socks I sleep in. Gosh, he must think I am an immature brat.

“I need to eat.
You need to eat. We’re here together, why not? I’m not asking you to marry me Alexandra, it’s just a meal.” Okay, now I feel really stupid. Of course it is. Just food. Nothing else. I really am an idiot to think he wanted something more.

More.

Maybe inside my defective brain, I want more, but I know better though. Damn brain.

All I can do is nod my head.
“Okay, breakfast. Then Heather’s murder will proceed on schedule.” I laugh. He just smiles.

Shit.

That isn’t just a smile. It’
s
smile. Like he’s won some sort of game. I’m in big trouble because this man is sex on a stick. I’ve seen his type on television and in magazines but never in person. My defective brain knows he’s trouble, but my body is betraying me, and my body has never betrayed me. It’s always been loyal to me.

But I can’t control it.

“Go get dressed and I’ll finish up here, then we’ll head downstairs.” Again, he tells me. He doesn’t ask. And I don’t argue.I nod my head and skip
,
skip? Back into the bedroom and close the door, locking it. I stare at the doorknob. How did he get in here last night?

I sigh and grab some
clothes and head to the shower. As I wait for the water to heat, I stare at myself in the mirror. Really stare. What the hell is he doing here and why me?

I’m sh
ort, curvy, yeah bit too curvy. Yes, I know, I repeated myself. My breasts are large and so not perky. They aren’t sagging to my knees or anything, yet. But they damn sure aren’t where they are supposed to be. I cup each breast and lift. Yeah. That’s where they should be.

As I wiggle and jiggle them and try to keep the
m up higher, my nipples pucker. I’m so consumed with where they’re supposed to be that I didn’t realize how sensitive they are.

It
’s been a while for me. Hell, it’s been a while for anyone who looks like me.

I look in th
e mirror and I know what I see. No issue there. Guys these days want slim, sleek and perky women. I know because I love to people watch and watching guys watch girls is hysterical. I see that all the time when I’m with Heather and guys stare at her. She’s oblivious to it too, which I guess is good. Either that or she just ignores it. It’s been ten years since a guy has oggled me like they do her.

For kicks and giggles,
I decided to pinch my nipples. Bad idea. Heat pooled low in my belly and dampness spread to my sex. Uh oh, let them go Al. I let them drop and get in the shower wondering why I didn’t bring BOB. Oh yeah, right. It would have never made it through airport security. Can you imagine a bag search and the TSA employee pulling that out?

After adjusting the temperature, I gather up my
shampoo, shaving cream....etc. I hate traveling with this stuff, but you never know what you’re going to get at a hotel. I wash and condition my hair, shave my legs and my hoo hah. Yeah, I know. Real mature. Then I just stand there, face into the stream of hot water. My body over sensitized and almost itching to be touched. So, I did. My soapy hands glide over my breasts, stopping only briefly on my nipples. I gently pinch and pull, rolling them through my fingers.

My hands then continue their destructive
path to the apex of my thighs. Having just shaved, its extra sensitive. My middle finger drapes through the slit in search of greener pastures and I suck in a breath. “Oh yeah.” I groan through the spray of the shower.

“Alexandra?”
I hear above the water, along with a knocking at the door. The Suit. Shit, I forgot he was here. I snap out of my little fantasy, exit the shower and quickly dry off, paying a little extra attention to my girly parts, a delicious friction. Should be enough to satisfy this crazy urge. He’ll be gone after breakfast and then I’ll be on a flight back home. Jackson Bentley will be nothing but a memory, albeit a strange memory.

I towel my hair dry and di
g out the hotel hair dryer. Weak. It’ll take me fifteen minutes with this little thing, but I proceed. Maybe if I drag this along, he’ll get tired of waiting and leave without me.

A swipe of mascara and a littl
e lip gloss and I’m good to go. I may not have a perfect body, but I have great skin. Makeup only makes me look like I am trying too hard to compensate for the lack of a great body. I pull on my capri pants and a gauzy tank. It is Miami, so I had to try to look the part.

I
laughed then. Capris in Miami? So NOT the part, but it’s the best I have. I said earlier I am a size fourteen. I lied. I’m actually a twelve, but I wear a fourteen. I’ve never been a fan of form fitting clothes. Muffin tops and love handles need to be hidden well. Let’s not forget the girls either. The Girls. Must. Be. Hidden. If you can’t lift them, hide them is my motto. Heather talked me into my regular size this weekend. Why did I listen to her? I’m self-conscious enough as it is. It felt good when I tried this stuff on, but now I wasn’t so sure.

After making sure the hair dryer was unplugged, I head out into the living area secretly hoping The Suit had gotten tired of w
aiting and he was gone, but no. He’s sitting at the table reading the paper. He looks up at me and I swear his eyes flared. And was that a growl? I must have been hearing things. “What?” I crook my head and look at him. He says nothing, he just looks at me.

After a few seconds of this Mexican standoff, he folds his newspaper and stands, but his eyes never leave mine and I’m
not sure how I feel about this. Surely he couldn’t hear me in the shower, could he? I mentally shake my head, no. He’s gorgeous and as I said before, way out of my league. Hell, he’s in another stratosphere from me. Girls like me fantasize about guys like him, not the other way around.

“Let’s go.” He takes my hand and leads me to the door.
Bossy man, he is. We head downstairs in the elevator in deafening silence. I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look at him. I’m not sure why I agreed to this breakfast. Sure, I need to eat and I’m hungry, but I can do that alone. Happily, I might add. I know this is a means to an end so I’ll get breakfast and then I’ll get rid of The Suit. Yeah, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

We enter the d
ining room and I scan the room. This, my friend, is where the beautiful people eat. Even hung over, these people are beautiful. The women are all made up, guys are in what I call golf apparel. Preppy, clean cut and boring. I look at The Suit. I just can’t bear to say his name, even to myself, for some reason. Jackson Bentley and Ally Sanders don’t belong in the same sentence.

We find a small table in the corner away from everyone else and I can feel eyes on me as we walk
through the crowded restaurant. They’re probably wondering what a girl like me is doing with a guy like him. Butterflies starts to flutter as I come to the realization that I’ll have to make small talk with the Suit. What could we have in common? It doesn’t take me long to answer my own question. Nothing. Not a damn thing.

And then, a reprieve
.

“Ally!” I hear my friend calling from the other corner of the room, and I silently say a prayer of thanks.