“Okay,” he said slowly. “And?”
Fidgeting with the sarong, she seemed reluctant to continue. “Why are you here?”
“What do you mean?”
“You told me this was a notorious pick-up place.”
“And you’re assuming I’m here to get laid?”
“Yeah.”
He grinned at her directness. “That would be nice.”
“Okay, so don’t you think you’d be better off spending your time meeting that goal?”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. “Talk about a brush-off.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Basically you’re telling me I’m not getting lucky here so don’t waste my time.”
She let out a low growl of frustration. “Don’t you see? I’m letting you off the hook.”
He was getting frustrated himself. “How?”
She leaned back and took a deep breath, the swell of her breasts undermining his concentration. “Let’s discuss this hypothetically, okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed, trying to keep a straight face. Hypothetically. Right.
“Let’s say we both came here to have a week of wild, uninhibited sex.” She quickly added, “Hypothetically, of course.”
He nearly lost it then. Wild? Uninhibited? He shifted to hide his body’s eager reaction, and nodded.
“Okay, then…” She seemed remarkably calm. “Wouldn’t you want the whole thing to be anonymous?”
“Why?”
Her eyes widened. “Surely you wouldn’t want anyone who knew you to be around watching.”
He put up both hands and shook his head. “Hey, I’m not into that.”
“Darn it, you know what I mean.”
He grinned. “Yeah, okay, I do. But I still don’t understand what you’re worried about.”
She shook her head and sighed. “Look, this is my one week of freedom and I’m not going to blow it.”
“Don’t you think we would hit it off in bed?”
“What part of anonymous don’t you understand?”
“Come here.”
“What?” She eyed him warily when he grasped her chin.
“What part of chemistry don’t you understand?” He slanted his mouth over hers and teased her lips open with his tongue.
At first she tensed, but in seconds she gave up all resistance and put a hand on his chest. He deepened the kiss, sweeping the inside of her mouth, tasting, sucking, absorbing her sweetness. When her hand drifted downward, he sucked in a breath, disappointed when she stopped at his waist.
He fought against guiding her hand down to his growing erection. He’d gotten so damn hard it was uncomfortable. But he didn’t want to rush her. She had enough misgivings.
Instead he drew his palm down her arm, then back up again, deliberately brushing her breast, pleased when she didn’t pull away. Cautiously he molded his hand to her shoulder and then moved it to cup her breast lightly.
She whimpered softly and shifted, forcing him to lose contact. When she leaned back, her eyes were dazed. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“Why not?” He casually moved his hand to her thigh, while holding her gaze.
“We have to stop before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“To stay friends,” she whispered, shifting, squirming, until his hand landed higher up on her thigh.
He couldn’t tell if the action were conscious or not, but he was getting damn close to heaven. “Who says we can’t?”
“This is so confusing.” She sighed, leaned away and moved her leg so that her thighs clamped together. “I never ever expected to see anyone I knew here.”
“But you did, and you have to realize we’re two mature adults now.”
“I do.”
“Obviously, I’m very interested.”
She blinked. “Okay, but if we do go through with this, and I’m not saying we will, we need to set ground rules.”
He frowned. “Such as?”
“If we agree to a physical relationship, we both go into this knowing it’s a one-week stand. Or you may decide one night is enough, someone else may catch your eye and I don’t want you to be afraid to—”
“Christ, Carly, I didn’t come here for the sole purpose of having sex.”
“I didn’t either,” she said defensively.
He smiled. “I didn’t think otherwise.”
“Okay, then…” She cleared her throat. “You understand that this is a one-week deal, right? Then we go our separate ways.”
A disgusting thought occurred to him. “Are you getting married?”
“Married?”
“When you return to Oroville. Is there someone waiting for you? Is that what you meant by a last fling?”
“Good God, no.” She shook her head vehemently. “I wouldn’t be here if I were about to be married.”
“Okay. I had to ask.”
She drained her cola and stood. “Maybe I will have a Bloody Mary.”
“Help yourself.” He watched her walk to the mini bar, enjoying the gentle sway of her hips, the athletic curve of her calves. “Are you still playing soccer?”
“No.” She laughed. “Not for over eight years.” She rinsed out her glass and then turned to look at him with dismay in her eyes. “This is a bad idea, isn’t it?”
“Why?”
“We have a history together. Not much of one, but still…”
“Isn’t that better?”
“No.” She looked away and focused on making her Bloody Mary. “We can forget the whole thing, Rick. No problem. Really.”
“Just stay friends?”
“Sure.”
He couldn’t tell if she was ignoring his sarcasm or just didn’t get it. “We haven’t seen each other in over twelve years. We’ve made no attempt to contact each other. I wouldn’t classify us as friends.”
“I’ll send you a card this Christmas.”
“Very funny.” He shook his head, wondering if this was commitment phobia making her so paranoid. “Is this an annual thing for you? Once a year you go on vacation and—”
She stiffened and set down the glass. Without another word, she headed for the door.
He jumped up and caught her around the waist. She shoved at his chest but he wouldn’t let her go. “Come on. I wasn’t being judgmental or trying to insult you. I’m simply trying to understand.”
“Of course I haven’t done this before. I’m just curious, okay? You know what Oroville is like. It’s a darn fishbowl. I can’t sneeze without everyone knowing about it.”
He tightened his arms around her. She was so soft, her skin smooth and warm and her eyes… “I didn’t remember your eyes being