Just About Sex (25 page)

And…what if she didn’t?

What if she came to him? What if he
did
make love to her? What if they were as perfect together—in bed and out—as he suspected?

What would he do then?

All around, the options terrified him. No matter how he looked at the situation, he came to the same inescapable conclusion: life as he’d known it was over. He wouldn’t recover if she rejected him. He knew it. And if she didn’t reject him, she’d turn his life upside down.

Laurel cleared her throat and kept her voice low, as if she wanted to broach the topic as gently as possible. “Isn’t tonight Simone’s date with Romero?”

Alex went rigid. Catapulting to his feet, he meant to say something—what?—to Laurel, but when he opened his mouth the only thing that came out was an unmistakable snarl.

Every fiber of his being wanted him to drive down to the aquarium, throw Simone over his shoulder and bring her back here with him. But he couldn’t lay eyes on Romero tonight without bloodshed, so he’d decided to stay put.

For now.

Wheeling around the desk, he snatched up the bottle of wine and headed for the kitchen. “I need a drink.”

He’d stalked two steps away when Laurel jumped up, ran after him and caught his arm. Surprised, he stared down at her.

She gave his elbow an encouraging squeeze. “I like Simone,” she told him. “She’s good for you. Don’t ruin it by thinking too much about it. Okay?”

Too troubled by this direct hit to say anything even remotely intelligent, he pulled his arm free and turned away so his sister couldn’t see his face.

Chapter 21

A
t that very moment, Simone, dressed in a functional black swimsuit, stood on the platform rimming the massive, football-field-sized shark tank at the Newport Aquarium. She stared into the swirling blue water, enjoying the fishy, saltwater tang of the humid air. Only her sense of decorum kept her from jumping and clapping her hands with excitement like a two-year-old. She couldn’t dive in Phuket tonight, but this beautiful tank was a darn fine substitute.

Of course, Romero would be no substitute at all for Alex.

The tank teemed with life: bright tropical fish of every possible size and color darted through the undulating seaweed. Turtles, sharks, rays and, best of all, Sweet Pea the shark ray, a weird but adorable combination of a shark, a ray, and a dinosaur, waited for her down there. She could hardly wait to dive in and greet them. Stepping off the platform, she walked across the concrete floor to her pile of equipment and slipped one foot in her black wet suit.

“You need help with that, Simone?”

Don, the dive coordinator, zipped his own wet suit up to his neck with a snap. Three other divers stood around in various states of readiness, checking their compressed air tanks, goggles, caps and other equipment.

Stooping, Simone began the process of pulling her suit up her right leg, an undertaking more or less like stuffing a sausage into a casing. “No, thanks. I’ve got it.”

“Where’s your date?”

Simone wanted to cringe, but didn’t. Juan Romero’s existence and eventual appearance were the only things standing between Simone and a perfect evening. Everything would be so different if only Alex were here with her.

Since he wasn’t, she had only one simple goal for the evening: to remain pleasant with Juan and avoid any sort of confrontation with him about the nature of their relationship. They were—and would remain—friends, period. She didn’t care what his expectations were.

Trying to convey a modicum of enthusiasm for the man who had, after all, paid twelve thousand dollars to spend the evening with her, she plastered a smile on her lips. “Juan should be here any sec—”

“Hola!”

The door behind her swung open and Juan, led by a green-shirted aquarium official that Simone didn’t recognize, swept in with an enormous armload of yellow tulips drooping gracefully over his arm.

“I hope I’m not late—” At the sight of Simone, Juan trailed off into silence.

Bent at the waist, fumbling with her suit, Simone inadvertently provided Juan with a spectacular view of her butt. He stared, taking full advantage. Jerking upright, she whirled to face him, her wet suit now clinging to her thighs.

“Juan,” she said. “You made it. How are you?”

As usual, when Juan Romero entered a room, an excited ripple went through the crowd, reminding her again of his superstar status. Towering over everyone else, he wore a black silk shirt and pants and did, she had to admit, look very nice.

For the moment, though, Juan seemed incapable of both speech and making eye contact. His gaze, heavy-lidded and sensual, slid up her body, lingering on her breasts and hips. Her face flamed until her ears and scalp burned.

Fearing exactly this kind of awkward moment, she’d worn her Speedo tank suit, the least sexy one she owned, and the swimwear equivalent of blue jean overalls. She should’ve worn a turtleneck.

“Simone.”
Recovering, Juan passed the flowers to her and pulled her in for the first bear hug of the evening, his hands roaming unabashedly over her mostly bare back. “Ees good to see ju,” he said in a husky bedroom voice.

Pulling away, she held out a hand to Don, who watched Juan with a slack-jawed reverence that would probably be more appropriate to Jesus’ second coming. “Have you met the dive coordinator, Juan?”

Beaming as if he’d just met his long-lost brother, Juan took Don’s hand, clapped him on the back and worked his magic. Simone watched with more than a twinge of annoyance as Juan charmed every person in the room, laughing, signing autographs and accepting his due as a sports hero.

Desperate to cover herself, she put the flowers down and finished with her wet suit as quickly as she could. Juan’s sharp gaze, narrowed and smoldering, stayed on her.

“You know, Juan,” she said, “we could’ve scheduled the date for a few weeks from now, to give you time to get your certification. Then you could swim with me.”

“No, no. Ees good. I watch ju, then we eat.”

Simone’s irritation grew. What kind of idiot paid twelve thousand dollars for a swim and then didn’t swim? Alex’s face came to her mind’s eye and she felt a painful jolt of longing for him, as vast as these tanks. If only he’d won. If only he was her date instead of Juan.

Alex would’ve taken the whole night seriously, she knew. He’d run right out, get his scuba certification, and schedule the date for a time when he could dive with her. He’d read up on every creature and plant in the lousy tank and tell
her
all about their breeding and feeding habits. She’d learn things she never knew—about diving and about Alex. Then they’d laugh over dinner, and he’d take her back to his house…

Swallowing hard, she managed a brittle smile at Juan. “Suit yourself.”

Misinterpreting her disappointment, he stepped closer and tapped his long fingers to her chin. She froze.

“Doan worry,
querida,
” he murmured as if soothing a child. “We have all night.”

Dread snaked up her spine and she stepped back and away, on the pretext of reaching for her compressed air tank. How she’d get through this date unscathed and unmolested, she had no idea. But she needed to think of something fast.

Because the tension and heat radiating from Juan’s body told her he had every intention and expectation of getting his twelve thousand dollars’ worth tonight. But he wanted them between her legs, not in some shark tank.

And he obviously didn’t plan to take
no
for an answer.

Simone watched Juan empty the last of the champagne into his flute with a subtle but growing sense of alarm. The man drank like a fish—no pun intended. Except for the four ounces in her own glass, he’d drunk the entire bottle of Cristal by himself, a tragedy since it was her favorite.

Their caterers, ever discreet, had scurried off to parts unknown after serving dessert. Now she and Juan—a man easily twice her size—were alone here in the bowels of the closed aquarium, with no one to hear her scream except the fish.

She couldn’t very well cloud her thinking with alcohol tonight. Something told her she’d need all her wits about her to get away.

Keeping her
I’m having a wonderful time, isn’t this a great date
smile glued to her lips, she took a moment to enjoy the beautiful, intimate setting. Their little table for two sat in the middle of an acrylic tunnel that ran through the shark tank. Rippling blue water surrounded them, as soothing and sensual as watching the moon rise over the ocean. She felt as if they were in a submarine built for two, intruding on a strange, thrilling world that humans were never meant to see. Sweet Pea and her comrades, including a fat, lazy nurse shark, swam all around them, occasionally giving the 3-D illusion that they were coming right at Simone.

The conversation, limited though it had been, had run out before the champagne did. Having told Simone everything that ever happened to him during his San Juan childhood, Juan now seemed happy to just stare openly at her as he sipped his champagne. Well, stare at her breasts, actually.

Fully prepared for this eventuality, she’d brought an unsexy little black dress with her, and changed into it when she’d showered before dinner. Though it had long flaring sleeves and a modest vee in the front, Juan’s gaze focused on her chest as if she were naked. Maybe one of the side effects of habitual steroid use was X-ray vision.

Her cheeks began to burn with discomfort and impotent anger. How much longer did she have to stay? And why had she volunteered to be some man’s possession for the evening? For charity? It wasn’t worth it.

For lack of anything else to do, she picked up her spoon and took another bite of the remnants of her Bananas Foster. It was buttery with caramel, and any other time she would have savored it, but she couldn’t now. Not with Juan watching her and leering as if she was a stripper wrapped around a pole.

“The ribs were really wonderful, don’t you think?” she tried, reaching for her napkin. “The Montgomery Inn always does such a nice job—”

“Ju are beautiful,
querida.
” Planting his elbows on the table, Juan leaned over his empty plate and toward her as if he meant to grab her hand and/or kiss her.

Leaning back in her chair, she gave him a brittle smile. “Thank you.”

“I want ju.”

Simone stiffened but kept her voice pleasant. “Juan. I told you before I’m not interested.”

Smiling as if he’d fully expected this reaction and respected her more for making him jump through a few hoops, he didn’t look the least bit deterred. “Come home wit me,” he said, his voice low and cajoling. “I show ju my beautiful house. We talk a leetle, no?”

“I can’t.”

Maybe she should walk away and defuse the situation a little. Standing, she tossed her napkin on the table and moved past him. “Please excuse me. I need to go to the ladies’—”

Employing the reflexes that had made him such a good base stealer, he stood halfway, grabbed her around the waist, and sat back down with her sprawled across his thighs, which were like twin drainage pipes. One large hand slid up her calf and under her skirt to knead her thigh in a powerful grip.

Simone struggled and sputtered with outrage. This same touch from Alex had dissolved her into a puddle of wet heat, but from Juan it made her skin crawl.

Bracing her hands on either side of his neck, she pushed as hard as she could, with no real hopes of dislodging herself. Sure enough, nothing happened except maybe that she bruised her hands against the concrete of his body.

“Let me go!”

The hand inched higher while he nuzzled her ear, whispering against it. “Doan play, Simone. Come. Let’s go home.”

“No!” With a burst of strength she surged to her feet and hurried several steps away from him. “This date is over!”

Slowly he stood, unfolding his huge body from the chair the way the alien queen unfolded from her hiding place against the ship in the scariest scene in
Aliens.

Simone’s lungs imploded, refusing to allow more than the tiniest bit of air through. Threatened but not yet panicked, she backed farther away, tried to look bigger and screeched at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Juan set his jaw and pointed at the floor as if he expected her to scurry over to his side. “I pay. Ju come home wit me.”

Furious, Simone snatched up her purse and clothes bag from where they sat in the corner. “You paid for diving and dinner! Not
me!
”

Finally her shrieking attracted some attention, and a small, bushy-haired server who’d had Juan sign his iPod earlier scuttled out from some hidden doorway behind the tunnel.

Seeing Juan’s rigid expression, he blanched. “Is, uh…everything okay?”

Relief flooded her lungs with air. Though she hadn’t thought Juan would actually hurt her—not really, not here—she didn’t want to test her gut instinct. She smoothed her hair and managed what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Everything’s fine. I was just leaving.”

Two quick, angry strides brought Juan right to her side. He put his hand on her arm and leaned close. “Doan do this, Simone,” he warned, keeping his voice low.

A better man than this had threatened her. Shivering, repulsed, Simone pulled away, thrilled that this nightmare of a date was finally over.

“Good night.”

She hurried off, fumbling with her bag as she rushed through the door, up the escalator and out into the night.

Simone had every intention of going home to bed, but apparently her car wasn’t in on the plan. When she woke from her driving trance she discovered, with no real surprise, that she’d gone to Alex’s. And once she realized where she was, leaving without seeing him was out of the question.

Turning the engine off, she sat in her dark car and wondered what to do now. His porch light and lights deep within the house were on, so he was probably home. Laurel’s car wasn’t in the driveway like it’d been before, so maybe he was alone.

It didn’t matter as long as she saw him.

After a minute, she got out and rang the bell, wondering when and how this man had become so important to her. This past week without seeing him had nearly done her in. Why she hadn’t returned his calls, she had no idea. Was she testing him? Again? Trying to see how badly he wanted her? Probably. It didn’t matter. Her want was enough for both of them.