Feel the Heat: A Contemporary Romance Anthology (31 page)

I look up into the sky. The sun is rising, all fiery red orange, breaking across a billboard. A picture of a beach, a tropical drink, and a hotel with the words,
Come to Belize,
scrolling across them.

I suck in a breath and something niggles inside me.

I could travel. By myself.

That would be daring. What better way to start out a year of celibate, self-discovery than with a solo trip? I could do it. I have plenty of vacation time and my boss loves me. She’s always trying to get me to take more time off.

I could leave tomorrow.

I’d be entirely by myself. I can think. Plan. Look out on the horizon and reflect on my choices. Figure out who I am instead of using some guy to define me.

Yes, Belize, I
will
come to you.

Ashley May Hill, you are on your way. By this time next week I’ll be a brand new person.

Someone better. Stronger. And, most important, male-free.

“
Y
ou’re where
!” My best girlfriend Tessa Jordon screeches into my ear.

In my most calm tone I say, “I’m in Belize.”

Yes. I’ve done it. Thirty-two hours after my revelation on the park bench I’m sitting on the patio of the hotel from the billboard drinking a piña colada, cell phone to ear, watching the waves break over the sand.

Before I’d left, I hadn’t told anyone my plans, because I hadn’t wanted anyone to talk me out of it. Except for my boss to let her know I wouldn’t be in to work, I hadn’t made a single call until I sat down in the lounge, drink in hand.

“Oh my god, are you with the hot doctor you went home with?” Tessa, she knows me far too well, and jaunting off to a tropical paradise with a hookup is exactly something I’d do.

An image of Christopher with his head between my legs fills my mind and a shiver races along my skin. I ignore it. These kinds of thoughts aren’t helpful if I’m going to keep my vow of celibacy.

“No. I’m by myself.” I take a sip of the frosty coconut-and-rum concoction that’s probably a gazillion calories. Instinctive fear for my waistline washes over me, but I brush off the distress. I don’t have to care about calories. Men are off the table, who cares if my stomach gets a little bloated.

Besides I’m on vacation. With the balmy breeze blowing across my skin, I’m not going to worry about such trivial matters. I can work on my abs in my free time when I’m back at home. I’ll have plenty of it.

Another high-pitched scream. “You took off for Belize
by yourself?
”

“Yep.” The word is simple and exact. Because, fuck yeah, I did! I took charge. I made a change and I went for it.

Okay, yes, I’ll admit it’s a little weird to be sitting here by myself. I’m totally out of my comfort zone, but that’s a good thing. I read somewhere that all change happens outside your comfort zone so I must be on the right track.

It will just take some getting used to.

“But why?” Tessa asks, the surprise in her tone clear.

I take another sip of my drink before squinting down at the beach littered with people. I need to get down to the little cabana I’d rented. Maybe I’ll even take a nap. I never get to take naps.

“Ashley!”

The shriek of my name rips me away from my relaxation planning. For a girl that’s always on the go, figuring out how to do nothing requires some forethought.

I return to the subject at hand. “What’s wrong with Belize? Ever since I read
Eat Pray Love
I’ve been dying to come. I had vacation time and got an impulse.”

It’s partially true. When I’d read the book I marveled at the author’s bravery and told myself I could never go anywhere like that alone.

I’m proving myself wrong.

“You don’t even want to go to the bathroom alone,” Tessa says.

It’s true. It all stems from an irrational fear if I get comfortable being alone, I’ll end up alone, abandoned, with nobody to love me.

So here I am, changing my limiting beliefs. Go me.

Who cares if people think I’m a loser? I’m not a loser. Or, at least I won’t be after my year of self-discovery is complete.

I give myself a little mental pat on the back. “I know. That’s why I did it.”

“This isn’t like you at all.”

“I’m trying something new.” So take that, world.

When Tessa speaks, there’s a new suspicion lacing the words. “Did something bad happen with the doctor? Did he suck in bed?”

“It was fine. He has nothing to do with it.” It’s a lie. He has everything to do with it, just not in a way I can explain. How do I articulate that the best sex of my life is forcing me to make changes in my life? It’s counter intuitive.

I run my hand through my hair, and try to ignore the feeling that’s been dogging me since I snuck out of Christopher Fellows’s apartment. I hate that he feels like a missed opportunity, when it’s not true. Even if I’d done everything perfectly, there’s no future. I’m thirty-two to his twenty-seven. Five years older! I understand this is the modern age and women can do whatever they want, but I don’t date younger guys. He’s supposed to be older than me. I’m supposed to make him feel young, not have him make me feel old. Also, he’s starting his career, and still finishing up his residency to be an orthopedic surgeon. I’m nearing the wrong side of thirty and am now forced to be realistic. If I want family and kids, I don’t have time to sit around and wait for someone to establish a career.

Any relationship potential was over before it began.

Besides, that had never been the point of him anyway. I’d gone after him precisely because he was uncomplicated.

“Fine doesn’t sound all that promising.” Tessa’s voice rips me from my thoughts.

I bite my tongue to keep from defending him. To keep from gushing about his considerable skills. A man that sweet looking should not be that good in bed. There should be a law. Or he should come with a warning. Caution: May cause multiple orgasms and life-changing self-analysis.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tessa sounds concerned again.

I do my best to reassure her. “I’m great. I promise. I wanted to do something different, something challenging, so here I am. This vacation is about me. A journey.”

There’s nothing but silence.

I can’t explain any more than that. “I should go.” I have a Kindle full of books to read—from Zen Buddhism to
The Power of Habit
—to feed my mind, and a phone filled with guided meditations to feed my soul.

“Are you sure? Because you sound weird.”

I laugh. “I swear, I’m more awesome than I’ve been in a long time. I just needed a vacation. I booked a cabana this afternoon so I can relax, drink, and sit on the beach until the travel washes away. Tomorrow morning, I’ve scheduled a beachside yoga class and a massage. Does that sound like a breakdown to you?”

“I guess not.” She still doesn’t sound convinced but I’m through trying to explain. “Will you call if you need me?”

“I will.” A false promise, because I won’t call. From now on the only person I’m going to need is myself. “Talk soon, love ya.”

I hang up before she can say anything else, and signal the waitress over to order another drink. I smile up at her, a young, pretty girl with dark skin, a red bikini top with a matching floral-print sarong. “Can I get another in a plastic cup to take with me?”

“Of course, ma’am.” She writes it down on her pad and hurries away.

I adjust my sunglasses. I’ll ignore the ma’am part and focus on the beach.

So this is it, I’m taking charge. As Elizabeth Gilbert says in the book,
“Day fucking one.”

Operation self-improvement is on its way.

* * *

T
he sun is heaven
on my skin.

After the night of crazy sex, frantic preparations, traveling and drinking a day’s calorie worth of piña coladas I’m exhausted. Alone with my cabana, the sun shining on my skin, the weather is making me so tired. Lulling me into that space between sleep and wakefulness. My lids grow heavy and I close the cover of my Kindle and toss it aside. My eyes drift closed.

This is the best idea I’ve ever had. Why did I ever avoid this? I should have done this a million years ago.

What better way to deal with a disaster than by escape? I’m a genius.

My limbs are boneless, heavy with relaxation. I have complete freedom to do whatever I want. And all I want is to drift along, the warmth of the sun on my skin, the sounds of the water breaking over the shore, the tropical breeze blowing in my hair.

I shift on my chair, and lower it down to a prone position. Between my legs I’m still swollen and sore. A flash of memory fills my head, distracting me from my quest for peace. Christopher moving slow and easy and languid inside me. His hands—

Nope!

Stop!

That’s not helpful. Forget about that night. Guys save that kind of sex for women they have no interest in, I was a lay—easy and uncomplicated—he’s probably already met some nice nurse during rounds today. He’ll take her to a nice dinner, hold her hand, and give her a respectful good-night kiss on the cheek. Tomorrow he’ll send her flowers—something sweet—like tulips or lilies, with a little card that reads,
thinking of you.

And that’s fine. Perfect. Expected. Doesn’t matter. I’m off men.

That crazy night was the last straw. My rock bottom. It’s just going to take time to wean myself off the addiction. Maybe it’s a good idea to remind myself of my cold-turkey plan:

No fantasizing about guys.

No flirting.

No trolling softball league night at the bars.

And since I figure I should stay away from orgasms for a while, I’ll have to give up masturbation, until things are under control, which means no reliving Christopher sex.

I need to save my daydreams for more important things, like the kind of person I want to be. It’s time to feed my soul, not my overactive libido.

Now seems like a good time to do one of my guided meditations. I pick up my phone, scroll through the playlist I created and finally settle on one about non-attachment. I put in my earbuds, settle into my chair and let my eyelids close. As I start to walk through the mental wildflower fields in my mind, my limbs grow heavy and that delicious laziness steals over me.

I yawn.

Sleep, slowly and languidly, creeps over me.

“Ashley!?” A loud, surprised male voice I’d recognize anywhere, slams through me.

I jolt awake, scream and jerk upright, my gaze flying up as my mouth falls open. I screech, “Christopher!”

Oh dear god this can’t be happening!

I
stare
down at the gorgeous blonde I’d taken home the night of my brother’s engagement party in complete shock. One look at Ashley, lying there in her tiny, pale yellow bikini and my cock hardens. Just like it hardened the first second I laid eyes on her. I shove my hands into my pockets so I don’t frighten people.

Even in my surprise, I can’t stop my gaze from traveling the length of her, snagging on her breasts. Literally the most fantastic breasts I’ve ever had the pleasure of biting. They’d been full, way more than a handful, and my mind fills with the image of her bouncing above me, riding my cock like she’d been born to it.

Should I be flattered or worried she’s followed me here? Obviously the sane answer is worried. It’s a bit much, and doesn’t quite jive with the way she slinked away at dawn without even leaving her number. Maybe she’s one of those crazy, split-personality girls?

But in a way, her following me here saves me some trouble. Despite Ashley’s lack of contact information, I’d been planning on getting her number from my future sister-in-law, Ruby, and calling her after I return from the medical conference I’m attending.

After a morning of lectures, we had the afternoon free, so I’d decided to wander down to the beach only find Ashley lying here, like a gift from the gods.

I can handle a little crazy.

I manage to pull my attention off her chest, and when I reach her shocked face, I frown.

Why is she so surprised to see me?

She points, gesturing wildly before yelling, “What are you doing here?”

My frown deepens and I tilt my head at her. “What do you mean? You know why I’m here.”

“I most certainly do not.” She picks up a white cover-up and clutches it to her chest, although I don’t know why she’s bothered as I’ve seen, touched, and tasted every inch of her.

The sand shifts beneath my feet. She’s a fantastic actress. “Ashley, we talked about this.”

The confusion doesn’t clear from her expression. Instead she says in a slow voice, “Talked about what?”

I study her features, which are totally blank of understanding, and full of what can only be described as horror. Like I’m the last person on this earth she wants to see. This is not the face of a woman that followed me here to continue our hookup.

Realization dawns on me. “You don’t remember?”

Her gaze slides away and her cheeks turn pink. “Not anything that explains what you’re doing here.”

I’d known she’d been drunk. Hell I’d been drunk too. I’d known we’d both had too much to drink, but it never occurred to me she’d forget. I’d had plenty of alcohol but I still remembered every second of being with her—from the moment I’d laid eyes on her at my middle brother’s engagement party, to the last time I’d fucked her before falling into an exhausted heap.

Okay, well, this is awkward. And here I thought that kind of sex was impossible to forget. I clear my throat. “What do you remember?”

Her skin flushes on top of a flush and she shrugs. “I remember some stuff.”

“Do you remember the closet?”

She nods.

Thank god, I’d done some of my best work in that closet. I hate to think I’d brought her to a screaming orgasm with my tongue, before burying myself inside her and pounding into her until we’d both had a shuddering climax, only for her to forget.

I raise a brow. “Do you remember dancing?”

“Kind of.”

There’d been quite a few shots between the closet and dancing.

“Do you remember leaving with me?”

A small shake of her head. “Not really.”

On the walk to my apartment is where we’d spent the most time talking. Although even then we’d been insatiable. I shove my hands deeper into my pants. “So you don’t remember sitting on the bench a couple blocks from my house, me pointing to the billboard and talking about the medical conference I was attending?”

Confusion runs across her face, followed by abject dismay. She buries her head in her cover-up and screams.

I can’t help it. I laugh. “So no?”

“This
cannot
be happening to me.” Her muffled voice is sweet and distressed.

I walk over and sit down on the empty chair next to her, brushing my finger over her smooth thigh. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s not a big deal.”

She jerks under my touch, shifting away from me. “It is a big deal.”

I chuckle. Not from where I stand. I’m thrilled to see her. I was already planning on calling her from the resort to ask if I could see her when I get back, but this is better. “In fairness, I did have my hand between your legs, and you came about ten seconds after I told you, so I can see why you might not have been focused on the conversation.”

“Oh my god!” Another muffled screech.

Grinning, I schooch closer to the edge of the chair and take her wrist. She tries to move away but I don’t let her, instead, pulling her hand down so her face is no longer hidden by the cover-up. “Come on, it’s not so bad, you have to admit it’s kind of funny.”

A vigorous shake of her head. “It’s not funny! I’m humiliated.”

I stroke over the pulse pounding against the fine bones of her wrist. “This is better than you being a stalker. A stalker requires me to take action and I’m not ready to call the police on you. Restraining orders are so annoying, you know?”

She tosses me an appalled look. “Do you really think I’m that desperate? That I’d stalk you?”

I shrug. “I didn’t think so, but I did tell you I was coming here, so what else was I suppose to think?”

She pulls her wrist away. “I swear to god I didn’t remember.”

“Hey, I believe you.”

She looks out to the water, crossing her arms over her stomach. “I’m not some desperate stalker.”

Of course she’s not. She’s a gorgeous blonde with a killer body, who’s fun, smart and successful. She doesn’t need to stalk guys. “I know.”

“You probably think I planned this.” The words are dejected, and pitiful.

“I can tell by your horrified expression you didn’t.” I lean forward and take her chin in my hand, forcing her to look at me. “If you planned this, you’d be coy, you wouldn’t be looking at me like you’d rather have bamboo shoots shoved under your fingertips than sitting here with me.”

She turns those big blue eyes to me, and our gazes lock. Everything we’d done that night passes between us, filling up the space with heat and hunger and lust.

I hadn’t planned what happened. It was probably too much, too fast. It was definitely too intense. I normally wouldn’t have acted like that with a woman I wanted to woo. Normally, I’d take it slow and easy, but there was just something about Ashley that called to some sort of primal beast inside me.

One look and all I could think about was doing filthy things to her.

Her cheeks flush pink again and she jerks away from me. “This is a nightmare.”

I smile. “Let’s not get dramatic. Maybe it’s fate.”

“Fate!” She waves her hand. “This isn’t fate, this is the universe’s twisted sense of humor.”

I understand she’s embarrassed and thrown off so I don’t take it personally. Good naturedly, I say, “Does this mean you didn’t want to see me again?”

She blinks at me before she scoffs. “Like that was ever going to happen.”

Now, I narrow my eyes and my jaw hardens. “Wrong. I had every intention of calling and asking you out.”

“Don’t lie.” She huffs, and it puffs out her magnificent chest. “I promise it’s not necessary. I’m a big girl.” Distress flashes over her features. “Older than you, so I understand how the one-night stand works.”

“Do you now?” I keep my voice amused, light. Clearly she’s on a roll and I have no intention of stopping her.

“Yes.” Her chin tilts.

“And how does it work?”

She rolls her eyes. “I admit this is an unfortunate coincidence that appears to be my fault, but you can go your way, and I’ll go mine. I’m not here for you and have no intention of repeating the other night.”

While I’d like to dispute her claim, I decide against it, choosing instead to focus on the more interesting part of this predicament. Because her actions are clearly a spontaneous decision made hours after she’d left me. The question is, why? “What are you here for, Ashley?”

She sucks in a breath. “I’m here for me.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s none of your business.”

I fall silent, mulling over my options since she’s on the run and not at all happy to see me. Finally, I say softly, “You’re wrong, I was going to call you. If you hadn’t left, I would have asked you to breakfast that morning and then to dinner as soon as I got back to town. Since you snuck away, I’d planned on asking Ruby for your number. But make no mistake, you would have heard from me.”

She blinks those clear blue eyes at me. “I don’t believe you.”

“Fair enough, why?”

She looks out to the ocean before she shrugs.

I have a feeling I know why. There had been something a bit too desperate about that night, a touch too intense and hungry. There was something embarrassing about doing things people who’d known each other for years were afraid even to discuss. I’d felt the same way, but instead of wanting to walk away, all it did was make me want more. I decide to probe a bit and see where it leads me. I meet her gaze. “Things got a little too dirty between us, didn’t they?”

She sucks in a breath. “Everyone knows one-night stands like that aren’t meant for anything more.”

“True.” I’m not going to pretend she’s not right, because she is. Crazy, dirty sex with a stranger is supposed to be a one-shot deal. Only, when I’d been introduced to Ashley I hadn’t been thinking about one night. I hadn’t even planned on sleeping with her. I’d been instantly attracted to her. Captivated by her smile, and quick wit, I’d set my mind to pursue her. I’d intended on a proper courtship, only we’d had too much to drink, our flirting had turned sexual and hot, and I’d had to get my mouth on her. It’s not an excuse, but it’s still the truth.

I try my best to explain. “The second I met you I wanted to ask you out, but since I’m five years younger than you, I knew I’d have to convince you. I got a little carried away.”

Okay, a lot carried away.

She turns to look at me—and I catch it—a second before it disappears. Hope. “It doesn’t matter. I’m too old for you.”

“Five years is nothing.”

“It is to me.” She frowns. “Besides that’s not the point.”

“What’s the point?”

She blows out a breath. “It doesn’t matter.”

She doesn’t have one. I meet her gaze. “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

She jerks, and I see the surprise in her expression before she starts shaking her head. “No. I’m here by myself for a reason.”

“And what reason is that?”

She seems to find some sort of hidden reserve and squares her shoulders. “I’ve decided it’s time to find myself. I’ve sworn off all men, dating and sex for a year.”

Well shit. Celibacy definitely puts a crimp in my plans.

* * *

H
ow could
I have let this happen?

Christopher stares at me, his butterscotch hair blowing in the breeze, his light brown eyes narrowed and assessing.

Only me. That’s all I can think. What kind of an idiot plans a week of solitude and conveniently forgets the guy she slutted it up with is going to that exact resort for a medical conference? Who does that?

I sigh. Me! That’s who.

As soon as he’d told the story the memory had come flashing back to me. Not fuzzy and dreamlike, but with harsh, jagged focus.

We’d made our way through the streets, stopping and making out like a couple of teenagers every couple of minutes. We’d finally stopped to sit on a bench, fighting to catch our breaths. He’d been talking about the conference, the hotel, the trip all while stroking my clit in slow distracting circles. I hadn’t been paying attention to the words; instead, I’d been grinding my hips into his hand, silently begging him for more pressure.

He’d laughed, told me I’d been soaking his fingers, then pushed me over with ruthless efficiency right there on the park bench.

I flush with heat and embarrassment at the memory.

He wanted to ask her out. Yeah, right? I’d hardly been on my best girlfriend behavior. And I know from experience, don’t I? There were girls you slept with, and girls you dated. I’d always believed I was girlfriend material, but now I know better.

Trevor taught me that.

Now it’s my job to fix myself.

Christopher frowns, pulling me back to the beach, which moments before had been paradise. “So you’re saying you left my bed and promptly took a vow of celibacy?”

If his world had been spun off its axis like mine had, that statement would make perfect sense.

“It’s nothing personal. My actions made me realize I needed to make some changes.” I bite the inside of my cheek and decide to be honest, although I don’t know why. Maybe because it’s different. Or maybe it’s because there’s something steadfast about Christopher that invites the truth. I say softly, “I’m tired of being
that girl
.”

He sits forward, and legs spread, laces his fingers between his splayed knees. “What girl?”