Tish had pushed her into going shopping. Okay, Tish had grabbed her and taken her shopping. So she owned only ragged cutoff shorts, or the ones she wore during her occasional trips to the gym. And she couldn't remember how long it had been since she'd last put on a swimsuit. Plus, she'd lost a lot of weight and most of her clothes didn't fit anymore.
But what reason did she have to go shopping? She wore jeans and work shirts all the time.
Which meant her wardrobe was in serious need of some updating. And she had to admit she'd enjoyed the hell out of picking out new clothes. She went hog wild, too, buying some things for Hawaii she knew she'd never, ever wear again.
But what the hell. She of all people knew life was short--sometimes too short--and she wanted to have the fling of a lifetime in Hawaii. What better way to start than by purchasing scandalous clothes?
She unpacked, then put on her swimsuit, surprised at what she saw in the mirror. She'd lost a lot of weight and gained a ton of muscle. Running from one jobsite to another kept her fit. Grief and focusing more on work than on eating had taken away those extra twenty pounds she'd always hated. For thirty years old, she looked pretty damn good. Maybe she could pick up a hot lifeguard or surfer, someone young and sexy--with stamina. She'd definitely want someone with stamina. She needed lots and lots of sex.
Even a little sex would be good. Any sex at all. She wasn't going home without it. She hoped she wouldn't have to assault some poor guy to get it.
Yeah, right. As if she was that forward. She'd had one--exactly one--sexual partner in her lifetime, and that had been James. She'd been seventeen when she'd met him, eighteen when she'd married him.
And a widow at twenty-five.
She shook off the shroud of melancholy that threatened to put a damper on this beautifully sunny day. Which was exactly where she belonged--out in the sun. It was time to shake off Oklahoma's winter and dig her toes in the sand.
She went downstairs to the pool, tossed her things under the chair and spread out her towel, lathered up with some sunscreen, giddy with excitement when a cocktail waitress came by to take her order. It was one in the afternoon. And she'd just ordered a Bloody Mary. Normally her day wouldn't be even half over yet.
So far, this vacation was pretty damn good. She sipped her drink and surveyed the pool area, an expansive, winding behemoth so large she couldn't even see the other side of it. It was crowded already, too. But not wholly by single men, unfortunately. Lots of couples as well as families with their children in tow. She decided to ignore them and scan the area for men traveling alone. Surely there were conferences here. Then again, men attending conferences might be busy during the day, and available only at night. Which meant she'd have to hit the clubs and bars. She could do that.
Right, because she was so worldly. She snickered and took a sip of her drink, put it on the table next to her and adjusted the chaise flat.
Time for some sun worshipping. She'd go man hunting later.
Clay surveyed the pool and ocean from his spot on the upper bar deck. He'd gotten in late--really late--last night, had done some work on his laptop and promptly passed out. This morning he'd gone for a workout in the gym, taken a walk on the beach and had breakfast, then gone to his room to make a few calls.
Yeah, so far, some vacation. But Tish told him Ella's plane got in late this morning, so he figured he'd run into her sometime today. In the meantime, he decided to soak up some sun.
This condo complex was packed. A lot of couples--on their honeymoons, probably--and families with kids running around screaming.
He liked kids. A lot. Someday he might want to have some. Maybe. If he had time. His father was a career-driven workaholic, and Clay couldn't remember spending much time with his dad. Nothing worse than an absent parent to make a child feel worthless. He didn't want to do that to his own kids. Better not to have any.
Of course since he never delved into a relationship past three or four dates, the chances of actually marrying and having children with someone seemed pretty damned remote right now.
Because he'd also seen how lonely his mother was, how his father's frequent absences and preoccupation with his career had affected her. And he'd never do that to a woman, either. It was best to keep them at arm's length, not get too involved. Then he wouldn't have to hurt them.
Damn. Too much downtime equaled too much time for reflection on how fucked-up his personal life was. No wonder he liked working nonstop. He flagged down the waitress and ordered a beer, then flipped his sunglasses over his eyes and surveyed the pool.
One woman caught his eye. A flash of red swimsuit, long brown hair, and just something about her--
He straightened, leaned forward, then stood and walked to the railing of the deck to get a better look. She was lying on the chaise, one knee bent, sunglasses on and a hat shielding the upper part of her face from the sun, so he couldn't really tell.
And damn, he'd never seen Ella...uncovered, but this woman's body was a knockout. A light sheen of sweat glistened on her skin, looking as though drops of gold had been sprinkled all over her.
She stood, and Clay sucked in a breath. Her breasts were full, but not overly large. Just perfect for her frame. Her hips flared out below her small waist, her belly was flat and she had beautiful, shapely legs. Toned arms, rockin' shoulders...This woman either worked out like a demon, or worked for a living.
She pulled off the hat and dragged her fingers through her hair, pulled off her sunglasses, then headed to the pool and dove in. She swam a few laps, then came up the stairs, water sluicing off her body.
Clay finally exhaled. It was Ella. Holy shit. She sure looked a lot different in a bikini than she did in boots, jeans and a work shirt. He almost felt guilty over the tightening of his cock.
Almost.
She smiled when the waitress brought her a fresh drink. He loved her smile. She didn't do it often enough.
Clay took his seat again, peering at her through the slats on the deck. No one approached or sat next to her. She seemed to be alone, at least here at the pool.
But was she meeting someone?
He still had no idea what he was doing here. He had yet to book the deep-sea fishing excursion he'd used as an excuse for coming to Hawaii. It sure as hell wasn't entirely for Ella. Just partly. He felt responsible for her.
So he wanted to make sure Ella was okay.
Then he'd go fishing.
Or so he kept telling himself as he spent the better part of the afternoon ogling Ella while she sunbathed and took a few dips in the pool. He felt like a stalker. Or a private investigator. Only no one had hired him to watch her. That one he'd decided on his own.
She finally left the pool about five, and he did the same, feeling ridiculous for spying on her. What was he going to do if she met a man? Lurk behind the nearest tree and watch them? And then what? Get a telephoto lens so he could see in her room and watch them get it on? Which would be physically impossible since she was on the tenth floor.
Hell. He didn't know what he was doing here, other than acting like a dumbass.
He took a shower, made a few calls, then worked on his laptop for a couple hours. Sitting in his room made him stir-crazy and he was getting hungry. He got dressed and decided to see what was going on downstairs.
If he was smart, he'd just call Ella's room and let her know he was here.
But he wanted to lie low, at least for a bit, to see what she was up to. If she was, in fact, meeting up with some guy, he'd be embarrassed as hell. This way, he could sneak a peek at her, make sure she was okay, then go fishing.
He had a bite to eat at the restaurant--no sign of Ella in there. After, he followed the sounds of loud music to the club across the walkway from the condo. Neon lights and blaring bass signaled he'd reached the hot spot.
The club was packed when he shoved through the front door. Definitely no kids here. All adults, some couples, a few singles, a lot of them crowded together on a giant dance floor swirling with colored
lights overhead. Clay made a beeline for the bar and grabbed a beer, then leaned against the padded leather edge and surveyed the crowd.
How the hell was he going to tell if Ella was even in here? There had to be more than a hundred people in the place, all packed together like sardines. He supposed he'd have to just make the rounds.
He pushed off the bar and strolled around the tables. It was so damn dark in there he couldn't see a foot in front of him. He guessed the club considered this trendy or even romantic, but he found it damned irritating, mainly because he couldn't make out any faces until he was inches away. How was he supposed to find Ella--if she was even in here? And keeping the fact he was here a secret was going to be impossible if he had to get in everyone's face.
He finally gave up after about ten minutes and moved back to the bar, ordered another beer and stayed there. But then a miracle occurred. The band took a break, the lights came up and he could actually freakin' see. The sardines from the dance floor took their places at tables or at least disbanded enough that he could take quick glances at who was in the club.
That was when he saw a brunette wearing a white dress flash by not more than ten feet in front of him. He skirted his gaze in that direction. It was Ella, wearing some skintight dress that looked as if it had been painted on her. She had her hair down, loose waves curling over her shoulders. She wore red shoes--high heels--and matching red lipstick. Not that he was noticing every fucking thing she had on or anything.
Goddamn, she looked sexy as hell. And she made his dick hard.
And worse than that, she wasn't alone.
Shit.
Three
Her first night, and Ella had already scored a major hot guy. Single, in Waikiki on business, Shawn was from Los Angeles and came to the island four times a year as a tech for his software company.
He was talkative, tall, well built and easy to look at with curly, sandy brown hair and green eyes. He liked to surf and promised to teach her tomorrow.
After she'd left the pool this afternoon, she'd taken a nap, then showered and come downstairs to the restaurant for dinner. That was where she'd run into Shawn, who'd been seated next to her table. He saw her dining alone and came over, cocktail in hand, asking if he could join her.
She couldn't have planned it better than if she'd--well, if she'd planned it herself. They'd had dinner together and hit it off right away. He kept the conversation going since he seemed to like to talk about himself and his career--and okay, maybe he liked to talk about those two topics an awful lot, but it was better than awkward silences. And she didn't mind listening. It gave her time to look at him, and he was nice to look at. Plus, it gave her an opportunity to ponder all the what-ifs for tonight, the possibilities of what might happen between them.
She could definitely have sex with Shawn. He was nice-looking, clean, professional, had introduced her to a couple of his business associates who'd passed by their table, which meant he was on the up-and-up about being here on business and really wasn't a lone serial killer. And he'd paid for dinner and invited her to the club across from the condo. There, he'd bought her a few drinks. He even danced well.
So far, he'd passed the test. She was enjoying the club, having a great time getting out on the dance floor. For the love of God, she was with a man for the first time since...
James.
No. She wasn't going to think about James tonight, wasn't going to think about the last time they'd gone out, the last time they'd had a moment together, the last time he'd held her, kissed her, touched her--
Tonight was all about new beginnings.
"You went quiet on me, Ella."
Shawn slid his fingers under her chin and focused her attention back on him.
"Oh. Sorry. Was just catching my breath. You do like to dance."
The cocktail waitress brought them fresh drinks. "Okay, then. Quench your thirst so you're ready to go when the band starts up again."
She took a couple deep swallows from the wine the waitress had placed in front of her, then exhaled. The dress she'd bought was sinful--it was white and it hugged her curves in all the right places. And the red stiletto heels were just the perfect added touch.
"You are so beautiful."
She smiled at Shawn. He'd said that about ten times in the past hour. "Thanks. Again. You don't have to keep saying it." She stopped just short of telling him that she was pretty much a sure thing and he could stop trying so hard. Then again, what would she know? Maybe this was dating and how men acted. It wasn't as though she had a ton of experience. She'd had James, who'd fumbled around with half-assed compliments when they were younger and she'd fallen madly in love with him. There'd been no looking back after that.
And no one else since.
So maybe Shawn's slick presentation was the norm. He was clearly the expert here and she was the novice.
She finished her glass of wine just as the houselights went off.
"You ready to hit the dance floor again?"
She took a glance at the dance floor and palmed her stomach. Between the tight corset and the three glasses of wine, not to mention the packed-in dance floor, she shook her head. "Too crowded. I need some air."
Shawn nodded and stood. "How about a walk outside to clear your head?"
"Perfect." With great relief she took his hand and he led her down the stairs and onto the outside deck. The night was warm, but there was a breeze, and she could breathe infinitely better out here.
He walked her to a corner area out of sight from the doorway. Low-hanging palm trees waved in the breeze. It was dark, private, very romantic.
He led her to the railing, where the sounds of the ocean crashed against the shore. They were alone. Maybe she didn't have butterflies fluttering in her stomach, but she'd get there...eventually.
She leaned against the rail and turned to him. "This is nice."
He moved in, slid his arm around her waist. "You are so beautiful."
Okay, that line was starting to get old.
"Thanks. You look nice, too."
"I want to kiss you."
Then do it. Don't tell me about it.
His face was inches from hers. He stared at her...and kept staring at her. Ella noticed his eyes were a little glassy. They'd been at the club for a few hours now. How much had Shawn had to drink? She'd had three glasses of wine, but she'd danced off the effects and hadn't paid much attention at all to the shots he'd been slamming. He'd seemed okay. Plus, he was really tall. And she was used to hanging out with men who could drink her under the table and still be stone-cold sober at the end of the night. Surely he was okay.
"Can I kiss you?"
Oh, for God's sake. "Sure."
After his tentative request, she expected light, an easy brush of his lips across hers. He shocked the hell out of her by jerking her into his arms and jamming his lips on hers. His tongue thrust inside, jabbing in and out, in and out. He tasted like whiskey, and his hands roamed down her back to grab her ass. He drew her against his cock, which was already hard.
She was not turned on. This was not pleasant. It wasn't romantic. It wasn't sexy. She palmed his chest and pushed away, resisting the urge to wipe her lips with the back of her hand. "Whoa, tiger. That was a little sudden."
He looked perplexed. "You said yes."
She blew out a breath. "Yes, I did, didn't I." She started to explain, but he grabbed her again, kissed her, turned her around so her back was against the railing. He held tight to her while he plundered her mouth. This time, when she tried to push him away, he didn't stop.
He didn't stop.
She didn't like this. She tried to wrench her mouth away but he lifted one hand to the back of her head and held her there, made moaning noises and ground his cock against her hip.
She felt sick, violated, wanted out of this. She wasn't ready--not for this.
Couldn't he tell she wanted to stop? She finally wedged her arm from his tight hold and scratched his neck. He jerked back.
&n
bsp; "Ow. What the hell was that for?"
"I was trying to get you to stop. Are you oblivious?"
"You wanted this. You want this."
She shook her head, wrapped her arms around herself. "No. I don't want this. I don't want you. You need to go." How could this night have turned so bad?
"You started it. You agreed. You said yes."
Oh, no. She might be inexperienced, but she wasn't stupid. This guy was history. She narrowed her gaze. "And then I said stop. I said no. What part of me desperately trying to push you away did you not understand?"
"And when a lady says no, she means it, asshole."
Ella's gaze whipped to the sound of a very familiar male voice behind Shawn.
Clay?
Clay was here? What the hell was he doing here?
And he was pissed. His brows were knit in a furious frown as he advanced on Shawn and fisted his hand into Shawn's Hawaiian shirt.
"You look like a smart guy. Smart enough to read a woman's signals. When she says no, when her body language says no, you'd better be smart enough to start listening."
Shawn was no short, lightweight guy, but he was dwarfed by Clay. He cast a decidedly uncomfortable look up at Clay and nodded. "Yeah. I got it."
Clay pushed him aside. "Take a hike."
Shawn stumbled over himself in his eagerness to get the hell out of there.
Ella slid onto the nearest bench, stupefied.
Clay came over and squatted down in front of her. "You okay?"
She nodded. "I'm fine."
He drew her hands in between his. "Your hands are shaking."
"He scared the shit out of me."
"He was a dick. Want me to go kick his ass?"
She laughed. Clay would do that, too. "No. I think you got your message across. He probably peed himself."
Clay's lips lifted. "Good. He deserved it."
"Clay, what are you doing here?"
"Fishing."
She arched a brow. "Fishing?"
"Deep sea. There are a couple great excursions this time of year. And you know it's a good time of year in our business to take a few days off."
She nodded. "True. I can't believe we're at the same place." But then it hit her. Of course. Clay had gifted the condo to Tish and her husband. "You mentioned at the meeting the other day that you have a condo at the same place as Tish."