The Bikini Diaries (7 page)

desires.

So it had surprised the hell out of him to hear himself ask her what her plans were

tomorrow. And it had surprised him even more to realize maybe he was being turned

down. After sex like
that.
Panting, heaving, screaming sex. But he didn't let his surprise show. It hardly mattered. After all, he
did
like one-nighters. Why should he mind if she did, too?

Maybe this was about his business troubles. She'd kept his mind off them, all night—

maybe he wanted her to
keep
his mind elsewhere. Since the outcome was pretty much out of his control now—a game of wait and see. While he was waiting, it would be nice to let Wendy keep right on distracting him.

"Think the dress will recover?" he asked as they traversed the wooden walkway, her feet still bare and sandy.

His heartbeat picked up when she took his hand back into hers; her smile remained laced

with sex. "Doesn't matter. I told you, there are some things worth ruining a dress for."

Without discussing it, they took the path that led toward the Shellside Towers, even

though his building lay in the other direction. They walked in silence—he was tired,

happy enough just to bask in the memory of their hot beach sex, and he supposed she felt the same.

When they reached the Shellside entryway, he eased his arms around her waist and pulled

her close, glad it had gotten late enough that no one else was anywhere in sight. "Tonight was... fucking phenomenal," he told her softly.

"I agree," she said. "Glad I took that ride you offered."

He chuckled softly, having forgotten about that. At the time it had just been his natural inclination to flirt with a pretty woman. He'd had no idea how things would turn out.

Something about it made him decide to take another stab at this. Still holding her, their bodies pressed together from chest to thigh, he whispered in her ear, "Remember when I slipped my finger into your ass?"

She flinched reflexively in his embrace, and
he felt
her remember. She didn't look up at him as she said, "Yeah."

"You, uh... seemed to like that."

She hesitated slightly, maybe a little embarrassed, then he felt her smile bashfully into his chest.
"Yeah."

"Well, I want to do it again," he murmured against her ear.

"I want to do everything to you again. And more." With that, he released her, stepped away—and said with just a hint of arrogance, "I'll look for you at the beach tomorrow."

He concluded with a wink, then turned and walked away.

Maybe he'd never see her again. But
damn,
he wanted to. Maybe she
was just
like him—

someone who enjoyed one-night stands because they kept her life practical. But he hoped

that naughty little tease would be enough for her to make an exception and go for two.

I have spent thirty-four years living in a box. A box with straight walls and a low

ceiling. And inside that box with me was the idea of what sex is supposed to be. It's not

a bad box—don't get me wrong. I've always liked sex. I've had some good sex. I've

been comfortable with who I was sexually.

But the sex I had last night was ...not in that box. It was like
the walk
had fallen down,

like I'd discovered this whole new sexual world outside of what I already thought was a

pretty good sexual world. It was like living in a really nice house your whole life, but

then one day getting brave enough to walk out the door and see what's outside. And

once you're out,
nothing
is ever the same again. You might go back inside the house,

but you won't stay there. Not all the time. You can't. Once you see
the
sun and feel
the

wind, you need it. You need it like you need to breathe.

The truth is... I think part of me wanted to feel empty. to be that intimate with a total

stranger. Maybe on some level I wanted to find out that sex meant more to me than just

the physical
pleasure of it. I wanted, deep down, to discover it was about the

connection, the emotion. But that's not what happened
—
that's not what happened at

all. I have found a brand-new and utterly startling part of myself. And I just don't

think I can go back in
the
box.

Chapter 4

The next morning at nine a.m.,. Wendy met with Emerald Shore's top two accountants in

the corporate offices, which were at once professional but beachy, the decor consisting of much teak, bamboo, potted palms, and sand-colored tile.

It had felt positively strange to sit there in a pale yellow suit with other professionally attired people discussing profit-and-loss statements, listening to projected earnings, and looking at complicated financial reports—after last night. At moments, she almost began

to wonder if last night had really even happened. But then she'd feel the tingle between her legs that reminded her it had been
very
real. Not just a tingle of desire, but a sense of having had a man inside her recently, having had her body opened that way.

So it had been hard to concentrate. She kept seeing Brandon's handsome face when she

should have been seeing numbers. Big numbers. That represented big money. That meant

she had to snap out of it and pay attention here.

Mostly, she did. But her own reveries also reminded her that it had been downright

foolish to indulge in what she'd indulged in while technically on the job. After all, what if someone in this office had seen her swaying with Brandon in her sexy dress on the dance

floor last night? Worse yet, what if someone in this office had come upon them on the

beach when she'd been yowling her pleasure like a deranged animal?

Even now, as she warmly shook hands with Marian Hinders and Jay Anderson as they

parted ways after lunch at a stylish resort cafe, she shivered—both at the memories and

the mere thought of how devastating it could have been to be seen by the wrong people.

"Thanks so much for lunch," she said, smiling at the accountants on the windswept porch of the Sea Bistro. "I appreciate your time and preparation for this morning, and it was a pleasure meeting you both. And, Marian," she added, alluding to a conversation they'd had over lunch, "I hope your trip to Hawaii is fabulous. I'm serious about wanting you to e-mail me some pictures, okay?"

As she walked away, her low heels clicking on the winding path that would lead back to

her building, it occurred to her that maybe last night she
hadn't
been at risk. Because no one here had known what she looked like yet. But then again, maybe they would have

remembered her upon being introduced to her today. She'd started and ended her Emerald

Shores meetings with Marian and Jay, but while in the offices, she'd been introduced to at least a dozen other people who worked in accounting and investments and new

developments. Which meant maybe someone
had
recognized her. She had no way of

knowing, after all. The very thought made her stomach shrivel.

But don't do that to yourself
The chances were incredibly slim, after all. The people who worked here probably didn't live here or play here.
You had an amazing night, you lived
your wildest fantasy, you came away with no regrets
—
only a sense of hedonistic freedom
you've never experienced before—so just bask in it, appreciate it, be glad and proud you
did it.

Because the truth was—she felt different than she had yesterday. She had no idea if the

feeling would last—for all she knew, maybe it would fade over time—but right now,

today, she felt confident, powerful, in control of herself and her life. In control of her pleasure. She felt beautiful. Desirable.
Hot.
She felt as feminine as she did professional—

adjectives she wasn't used to combining when thinking of herself, generally feeling as if she were one way or the other at any given time. And recently, professional had

outweighed feminine by a landslide, so it was more heady than she could have imagined

to suddenly feel like a real woman again.

The further truth was, she felt
so
feminine, and
so
desirable, that each and every time she'd encountered a new male today who could be considered even remotely attractive,

she'd wondered if he could in some way see in her what Brandon had seen. Someone

sexy. Someone sensual. Someone with a hidden passion that was just seething to get out.

She'd found herself looking more directly in the eyes of the suit-and-tie guys at the

Emerald Shores offices. For no particular reason than impulse, she'd smiled almost

flirtatiously at the cute twentysomething waiter in the cafe. She'd done nothing

inappropriate, but she'd simply felt more aware of her own sensuality in every breath

she'd taken today, and maybe, she thought now as she neared the Shellside Towers, her

own self-awareness had made her more aware of
other
people today, too.

And not just guys, and not just sexually, either. With everyone she met, she'd simply

made more contact than she normally would, taken a more sincere interest in people.

She'd noticed what they were wearing; she'd caught a whiff of Marian's perfume; she'd

taken note of Jay's tie clip and found out it was a gift from his kids last Christmas.

But the even further truth was—as much as she thought all of her revelations made last

night seem
healthy
and positive, how healthy and positive was it
really
if she found herself wanting to do it
again?

Her heart beat faster as she stepped inside the cool lobby of her building and rode the

elevator to her studio condo. She was thinking about that bikini she'd bought. And she

was thinking about Brandon's last words to her.

Don't do it,
a voice inside her said.
No matter how slim the risk is, some people here
know you now.
And tomorrow she was supposed to meet with Mr. Worth and Mr. Penny, Emerald Shores' CEOs. She imagined stepping into some lavish office and facing two

dignified old men who would announce to her that their employees had seen her having

sex on the beach—and not just the drink—and that they felt obliged to report this

behavior to her boss. She had no idea if being seen doing something like that
would

automatically result in such a report, but she certainly didn't want to find out. And

couldn't afford to, either—-it was her
job,
her job where she appeared to be
climbing the
corporate ladder,
her job that she
loved.
She couldn't risk messing that up.

But if she couldn't risk messing that up, why was she walking over toward the cute little Beach Bazaar shopping bag still sitting on a chair in her room and plucking out the two

pieces of the swimsuit?

Why was she holding them up, remembering the way they'd molded to her body?

Why was she dying to put it on?

Simple. Because Brandon's words still rang in her ears.
I want to do it again. I want to do
everything
to you again. And more.

Despite herself, she couldn't help thinking:
more7
What more could there be?

And how could she bear not finding out? After all, this was her one time away from home

by herself. This was the one time she'd already started something brazen and hedonistic

with a man, so maybe continuing it to see where it led only made sense.

If you can block out the "what if someone with the resort sees me?" part.

And realistically, she decided, she could.

Because this place was
huge,
with literally thousands of occupants.

Because the people who worked here were working
now,
not hanging at the beach or poolside during business hours.

This was a playground. It only made sense to play. And no one from the corporate offices would see her. It was nearly a mathematical impossibility. She'd have a better chance of winning the lottery.

And the fact was—the temptation of getting more of what Brandon had given her last

night was simply too great to resist.

Thus it was ten minutes later when she found herself stepping down into the soft white

sand in her sexy new black bikini and the short, equally sexy black sarong she'd bought to go with it. She toted a straw bag on her shoulder containing a towel, sunscreen, and her work journal.

Although she'd felt a bit nervous upon first leaving her room so scantily clad, already

now, she felt sleek and svelte and sensuous as she padded across the beach toward her

reserved umbrella and chair—and she felt the eyes on her, just like last night in the

entertainment village. Again, it was nothing so extreme as the way people had stared at

White Bikini Babe, but Wendy knew she was being noticed, and she'd never felt more

desirable.

Her original questions, hopes, came back to her in a glorious sense of success as she

strolled up the shoreline. She
could
pull this off! The dress, the bikini, being a woman who sought pleasure,
everything.
It was a revelation. It was like waking up after a very long sleep. It was like looking in the mirror and suddenly realizing you were beautiful.

Of course, as she neared her umbrella, fresh new doubts crept in. Not about her new self-confidence, but about Brandon. Would he really find her here? The resort was enormous,