Private Pleasures (7 page)

Drew had seen enough to know the fun, moony times didn't last, and he didn't have the time or patience to try to decipher the mysteries of a woman's mind to find out what would make her happy.

He was only interested in one thing, especially here. Especially now.

His gaze drifted over to the main building where Wendy was staying, locking on the shuttered window he was pretty sure was hers. Was she still sleeping?  He'd kept her up late, he thought with a little smile.

Late enough that he'd fallen into such a deep, exhausted sleep he hadn't even heard her leave. His smile faded.

He sipped his coffee, his mouth pulling tight as he thought of her, alone up there in her room when she could have stayed, could have woken up next to him....

He hadn't even realized he was walking toward the building until the sound of someone calling his name startled him out of his haze. What was he going to do, storm up to her room and demand entry?

She wanted to be alone, Drew would leave her alone. He'd been happy to play the pursuer the night before, but he wasn't going to spend the rest of the weekend chasing Wendy down.

He raised his hand and went to join the man who'd summoned him. Jeff Tracer had been a year ahead of Drew and Chris at Berkeley and was now the president of a successful medical device company. Jeff and his wife Amelia lived in Northern California. He'd only met Amelia a few times, but he often ran into Jeff at work-related events.

"Good to see you Drew," Amelia said, and Drew leaned down to give her a buss on the cheek.

"Didn't have a chance to catch up last night at the party," Jeff said as Drew sat down.

"I feel like it's been ages since we saw you," Amelia said. "Not since Alan's wedding," she added. "God that was a beautiful ceremony—"

"Yeah, but I still feel bad for his fiancée," Jeff broke in. "What was her name? We went to the engagement party—"

"Wendy," Drew replied in a clipped voice. "Wendy Carmichael."

Like something out of a movie, she appeared. If she heard Drew say her name, she gave no indication as she strode across the pool deck. Though half of her face was hidden by her oversize sunglasses and oversize straw sun hat, there was no mistaking the long, pale legs left bare by the filmy cover up she wore. The fabric was some kind of translucent, gauzy stuff, hinting at bare skin at her stomach and chest.

In a heartbeat, Drew's body sprang to full attention, his gaze locked on her like a laser beam.

"That's her, isn't it?" Amelia, said, thankfully clueless to the fact that Drew was tenting out the front of his shorts under the table.

All Drew could manage was a strangled grunt of confirmation.

"I didn't realize she knew Chris," Jeff said idly, but Drew didn't miss the flare of appreciation in his eyes as he tracked Wendy's progress to the steps that led to the beach.

"She's Julie's best friend," Drew said in a sharp, clipped voice, resisting the urge to smack the faint leer of Jeff's face. He clenched his fist under the table. What the hell was wrong with him?

You're a jealous bastard, just like you were the first time she showed up on Alan's arm.
He tried to shove the feeling away. Sure, he'd resented the bastard, but now that he'd finally had Weny in his bed, that should be out of his system.

Right?

Instead, he was finding, to his frustration, that having finally had a taste he found himself even more reluctant to have a man even look at her, even a happily married guy like Jeff.

"Ha, small world," Amelia said, not noticing or not caring that her husband was staring at another woman's near perfect ass. "Was she at the party last night?" she asked, turning to Jeff, who had the decency to wipe the wolfish look off his face as he looked at his wife.

"I didn't see her, but then again it was kind of dark and pretty crowded."

"I think she left early," Drew said, as though he hadn't tracked her every move from the moment she set foot on the island yesterday morning.

"She's a lot cuter than Alan's wife," Amelia said, turning her attention back to Wendy's retreating form, analyzing her in the way women measure each other. One thin brow arched above the frame of her sunglasses. "Must not have a great personality."

Drew watched the floppy green brim of Wendy's hat disappear down the steps. "No, more like Alan wasn't even close to man enough for her."  He mentally kicked himself. Since when was it his business to defend Wendy's reputation, especially since up until last night she'd treated him with all the warmth of an ice sculpture.

Amelia held up her hands. "Oh, no offense, I don't even know her—"

Drew held up a hand. "None taken. We're friends, that's all,"
 Friends?
his inner skeptic scoffed. Not exactly, he conceded , but it sounded better than fuck buddy. Either way she didn't deserve to have her personality trashed by someone who barely remembered her. "And I know Alan pretty well. He's a tool."

Jeff's brow drew into a frown and he looked like he was about to defend their mutual acquaintance. Drew saw Chris and Julie emerge from the restaurant, hands linked as they smiled and stopped to say hello to their guests on their way down to the beach.

"I need to go talk to Chris," Drew said, cutting Jeff off as he seized the opportunity to exit.

He started to follow them down to the beach, his lips curling in a smile as he watched a slim, pale figure in a bright orange bikini wave them over. Julie gave a little wave and picked up her pace.

Drew hurried too as he realized they were going to join up with Wendy.

How convenient.

Chapter 5

Wendy settled back into her lounge chair and went about making sure every patch of skin exposed to the sun was covered in SPF 50. She'd learned the hard way at Julie's wedding five years ago that her fair skin and British Isles ancestry was no match for the strong Caribbean sun.

Still, she adored the sensation of basking in the sun, feeling the warmth on her skin, and she was determined to soak up at least a couple of hours before she retreated to a shady spot to go over the legal briefs she needed to review before she flew home tomorrow.

"Hey!"

Wendy looked up, grinning as Julie plopped herself onto the lounge chair next to her. She shed an aqua blue cover up the exact color of her eyes to reveal a body that was petite and enviably tight despite having given birth to an eight pound baby within the last two years.

Julie held out her hand, and Wendy automatically handed her the sunscreen so she could give herself a protective coat.

"We missed you last night!" Julie said.

Wendy shrugged, hoping Julie couldn't see the blush creeping up her cheeks. "I told you, I was a little wasted from the flight."

"Since when do you let something like jet lag get in the way of a party?"

Since I decided to see what it would be like to let Drew Walker fuck me five ways to Sunday.
"Work's been a bitch," Wendy said with a shrug.

"What else is new?" Julie said, and even though her eyes were hidden by the lenses of her aviators, Wendy knew they were rolling back in her head. "Are you seeing anyone?"

Before she could answer, she caught a glimpse of him coming down the stairs that led to the beach. Talking with Chris as they jogged the last few steps, Drew was dressed in a pair of dark blue board shorts and a faded grey t-shirt. High fashion it wasn't, but with the soft cotton of the shirt clinging to the muscles of his chest, reminding her of the masculine perfection that lay underneath, he looked good enough to eat.

He saw her in that exact moment, his step hitching in the soft white sand. Though like hers, his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, she felt their silver heat hit her bare skin, raising the temperature of the air around her.

He started to take a step in their direction, but Chris caught his arm, gesturing to the volleyball game being played down the beach.

"I don't get how he does it," Julie said, stifling a little yawn behind her hand. "He already got up and swam like a hundred laps, now he's playing volleyball. I'm wiped out, and I've only been up for an hour and a half."

"Yeah, but you've been getting up in the middle of the night every night for a year," Wendy said absently, her eyes still locked on the broad lines of Drew's retreating back.

Julie must have noticed the direction of her gaze and the tension in her mouth. "You don't like him, do you?"

"Of course I do! I love Chris!”. Wendy said, playing dumb.

"Not Chris, Drew," Julie said. "You didn't like him from the beginning and now...." Her voice trailed off. "I know he works with Alan, and I'm sorry if having you makes you uncomfortable."

"Don't worry, it's no big deal," Wendy said, glad her sunglasses hid the direction of her stare as she watched Drew strip off his t-shirt and join the game.

Jesus, she was going to start drooling if she wasn't careful. She tore her gaze away from the visual orgy of tan skin and rippling muscle as Drew leaped in the air to spike a ball.

She realized Julie's lips were moving and words were coming out. She forced her attention back to her friend and caught the tail end of whatever she was saying. "...can't help but wonder if that's why you left the party last night."

It took Wendy a couple beats to catch up. "Because of Drew? No way!"
Lie! But not for the reasons you think!

"You'd tell me if you did, right? I know you've been going through a rough time, and I really wanted you to enjoy yourself this weekend."

Wendy heard the catch in Julie's voice and couldn't stifle her smile. Julie had always had a huge, soft heart, but since becoming a mother she'd started tearing up at the drop of a hat. When Julie had visited her in San Francisco when Mathilda was four months old, Julie had started sobbing over how beautifully the dew sparkled on Crissy Field one sunny morning as they went for a walk.

And, okay, Wendy's throat was a little tight, but it had been awhile since she'd had anyone really looking after her feelings. She reached over and gave Julie's hand a little squeeze. "Jules, in case you've forgotten, this weekend is supposed to be about you and Chris and five years of wedded bliss. Even if I was uncomfortable—which I'm not"—
as long as I don't count the screaming muscles of my inner thighs or the general tenderness of my lady parts—
"my job as your friend is to suck it up and have a good time and never let you be the wiser. I love you, Jules. This is your weekend. Don't worry about me."

"Thanks," Julie said with a watery sniffle. "I think after being in this business so long I've forgotten sometimes
I'm
allowed to have a good time and be the star of my party."

"That's right, princess," Wendy snickered.

"Speaking of wedded bliss," Julie said, settling deeper into the padded lounger, "you never answered my question. Are you seeing anyone?”

"Not really," Wendy replied, her gaze drifting back down the beach where the volleyball net was set up. Eight of the male guests had divided up into two teams and were flinging themselves around the sand with varying levels of skill.

Drew and Chris were the most skilled by far. And also the fittest. At the age where most men let their workout regime slide in favor of more time behind the desk, those two were in their prime, muscles rippling under smooth, sun-bronzed skin.

With Chris it made sense, living where he did, spending so much time outdoors. Plus, it was part of the brand for both Holley Cay and Watermelon Cay. Somehow Wendy didn't think the ad campaigns featuring Chris would be as successful if he was a fat slob.

But Drew... just looking at him made her hot in a way that had nothing to do with the bright sunshine beating down on her skin. She knew he worked hard—from the way Alan had bitched about Drew trying to make them look bad, it sounded like he worked nearly the same hours she did. A good week for her was squeezing in two workouts.

He, on the other hand, looked like he put in hours a day, every day. Lean and cut and bulky in all the right places. Her fingers tingled at the memory of exactly how hard he'd been.

Everywhere.

"...Chris still has tons of friends in San Francisco we could set you up with. I know Drew isn't your type—"

"What?" Wendy jerked her attention back to Julie. Once again, she'd been so busy ogling Drew that she’d completely tuned the other woman out.

Julie let out an exasperated sigh and gave a wave to one of the servers taking orders on the beach. "Why are you such a space case today?"  She paused her scolding to smile up at the beautiful  dark-skinned woman and ordered two margaritas, rocks with salt.

Wendy interrupted, changing her order to a diet coke, which earned her a scowl. "I can't start this early in the day. I'll never get anything done."

Julie flung her arms out, exasperated. "You're on a tropical island at one of the world's most luxurious resorts. What is there to get done?"

Wendy shrugged, keeping quiet for now about the fact that she'd broken the promise she'd made to Julie not to do any work while she was here. The waitress returned shortly with their drinks, and Wendy looked on jealously as Julie swiped some salt with her tongue and took a long sip of her margarita.

"Anyway, like I was saying, you should let us fix you up—"

Wendy held up a silencing hand. "I keep telling you, I don't have time to date."

"You don't make time."

"There is no time!" Wendy said, attracting a couple of questioning looks at her voice's pitch and volume.

"No time for what?" A masculine voice asked from behind her. Wendy didn't have to look up to see that it was Chris. The wide, goofy smile that engulfed the lower half of Julie's face said it all.

As Chris pulled a lounger up beside Julie’s and plopped down, Wendy turned, mentally bracing herself because sure enough Drew was right behind.

"Too busy to date," Julie said.

"Is that so?" Drew asked.

"Like I keep telling you," Wendy said through stiff lips as she carefully kept her eyes averted from Drew, "I'm up for partner this year, and if I want to make it, there's no time for anything else. Until that happens, I don't have the time to give to a relationship. I think what happened with Alan proved that."