Tempting Isabel (Paradise South #1) (6 page)

CHAPTER 5

I
sabel’s intrigue
grew.

Beyond his looks and the
sweet-and
-stumbling thing he had going on, there was something else. In his demeanor and in the softness of his smile, the gentle upward curve of his full and fallen lips as he spoke. She felt comfortable and anchored, an anomaly for her. And it was almost as if he saw beyond her shield, the one she used to hide her
never-ending
loneliness. It was as if he understood it himself, a
deep-seated
and genuine empathy.

And it scared her to death.

Yet still, she stayed.

She stayed and flirted over starter drinks and appetizers until dark by somehow managing to shut her contesting brain off. Because she was enjoying herself, his company. And, damn it, he was funny. The foreign or forgotten sound of her own laugh surprised her, thrilled her, soothed her.

“You have not!” she challenged.

“
Oh
yeah…on US Skies and FlyGlobal. Oh, and Jetta Air. Man, that was a close call, but a cooler than cool flight attendant looked the other way.”

“That’s insane!”

He gave her a coy smile. “Flying commercial is worth it just for the restrooms!”

She watched him in awe and wondered how two people could even fit in the tiny airplane bathrooms. She hadn’t been on an airplane to know, but had an image from television, and it just didn’t seem very easy, or comfortable. Awkward was more like it.

“You didn’t bang into the door by mistake, and fall out—the both of you? A show for all?” she asked, cracking up at the image.

“Nah, not a chance. I told you, I’m usually
super-smooth
.” He laughed as he shook his head, turning a light shade of red for the millionth time. “I’m not ever this far off my game.”

Contrarily, Isabel had never been so
accident-free
, smooth, and confident. In her. Entire. Life.

“But,” he said with a revived confidence in his voice, waggling his brows for effect, “I wouldn’t mind if the door did fly open. Exhibitionism is a definite
turn-on
for me!” He stood up, threatening to strip his shirt off, which she honestly wouldn’t have minded at all. God he was so hot, and she was so buzzed. So buzzed that she’d even forgotten about the cut on her foot that had been throbbing since morning and the tiny degree of nagging guilt for skipping out on dinner with her family.

She sighed and stared at Zack. Buzzed or not, she was shocked by her level of lust for this stranger, despite or because of his high school boy demeanor in a magazine model’s body. He made her damp and hot and anxious to get more closely connected. And contrasting his awkwardness with her newfound calm and cool, she felt like a queen, a confident seductress. She was ready, excited even, to seduce her new friend Zack. Last name, still perfectly unknown.

*

He couldn’t take his eyes off her, awkward or not. But as the night wore on and shots flowed down, the awkward factor dropped too. He relaxed into their groove, though still randomly
tongue-tied
. Isabel had her buzz on, as told by the glazed look in her eyes and the ease of her laugh.
Mmmm, that laugh
. He could listen to it all night and not do anything else.

Well, he could, but, no. He definitely wanted more. As the drinks loosened him and his nerves, they also increased his ravenous hunger for her, as if that were even possible. It got harder to control himself. Much, much harder.

The sun had long since set over the bay, cooling the night off a bit, and seeing her goose bumps up and down her arms, he had an uncontrollable urge to take her in his arms and warm her. But instead, he took it upon himself to help her into her little suit jacket, his fingers brushing her neck as the collar landed square. So he got to play gentleman and cash in the excuse to touch her, to connect. A teaser. A teaser for more—hopefully sooner than later.

*

God, she liked this. Liked who she was now, here, with him. And how steady he made her feel. The more drunk she got, the more grounded she felt. How was that even possible?

Who cares how?
She deserved to feel this way, even for just a night. A uniquely solid and strangely riveting night out with a man like Zack. Why not, right?

But then
what?

More
torture.

Not if she stuck to the plan.
Only one night, period.

She watched him down another shot, then slid him another.

“Here’s to a damn great night,” she said as she raised then slammed her drink, signaled for the check, and collected her purse. “Ready to go.”

“Okay, then.” He laughed then helped her out of her chair and over the pile of glass shards. “Hey, you called it,” he said with a wink.

“Yup.” She definitely knew her Mexico. “So where to now?”
Please say your hotel.
Because, God she wanted him. And she really didn’t trust herself at this point, for so many reasons, on so many levels. More schmoozing and dragging this out,
no
bueno
.

“The dance club I wanna take you to is right across from here. We can walk, but your broken heel! How can you walk, or dance for that matter?”

There was her excuse. Her perfect out. Skip the dancing and move to the intimate peak of the night.
Then
done.
“Dancing sounds great and no worries,” she said, motioning to her feet. “I have a pair of sandals in my car as backup.”

Wait, what just happened? What happened to skipping the club, on to the hotel?

She damn well knew better, but…she wanted to go dancing, damn it! With him! And that was exactly what she was going to do, so help her.
To a damn great night, remember?

*

She switched shoes and followed his lead across the street to
La Sexta Noche
, a newer club Zack said he’d been to several times on his last trip down.

She’d been there too, but didn’t mention it. He seemed so excited to show her his find. And maybe she didn’t need him knowing that she, a local, had frequented a touristy night spot.

Either way, it was an upscale club with a higher cover charge than most in the area, so it brought in a slightly more mature crowd. In high season there were usually lines around the building on the fifth or sixth night of the week, but because it was a weekday night, not even a bouncer stood at the door.

Once inside, Isabel didn’t dance around her goal. She felt electrically charged being near Zack and wasn’t afraid to show it. His eyes, hands, and body responded in kind, touching her arms, her back, her backside every chance he got. And once another round of tequila shots were slammed, the two of them went straight to the dance floor and couldn’t have gotten their clothed bodies any closer.

*

“You’re driving me insane,” he breathed into her ear, grinding her from behind.

Insane? God, the sensation was mutual. Although the idea of hitting a club with Zack, spending more time talking and laughing—and yes,
up-close
dancing with him—had thrilled her, now Isabel wasn’t sure how long she could control herself. He just hit all her buttons, and as she pushed her backside into him with rhythmic angst, feeling him, solid and hard, with every pounding beat the club’s DJ put out, it was almost too much. They continued their grind for only one more song until she rolled to face him, her hand clutching his ass, unable to wait anymore.

“Where are you staying?”

“The Airington. You know it?”

“Yeah, I know it,” she said. “I remember the awesome view of the bay, but it’s been a while. You wanna show me your view?” she teased, her buzz allowing her to speak as loosely as she damn well pleased.

“Sure, I’m up for it.” And he was, his erection now bulging through his khakis against her tensed midriff. She felt it and needed it. She clenched in response, already wet and well beyond primed to get more familiar with his body. Over the bass, he shouted, “I’m up in the penthouse. The view is spectacular.”

“What are we waiting for?” She rolled her body keeping hard against his stiff, beckoning manhood, then grabbed his hand and led him out of the club. All done with the formalities. All done.

*

She was on a high.

When they left the club, the thick Vallarta humidity immediately smothered them. It had just rained, torrentially so, it seemed. Isabel dodged and sidestepped around puddles in her tall,
narrow-heeled
sandals.

Why she wore anything but flats when she knew she was one big accident waiting to happen, she’d never say out loud. But at
five-foot
-two, she justified that style and stature were just too important. Especially in her line of work. And since fate had left her alive to breathe and walk, then she’d damn well look decent doing it.

And Zack offered her his hand like a gentleman, making sure she didn’t fall. Vallarta’s cobblestoned streets and potholed roads were a challenge. And although she was becoming somewhat of a master at navigating life’s uneven ground, she’d had plenty of collisions with the earth because of the inconsistent stone streets of her Vallarta.

Yeah it’s the cobblestone, or the waiter, or the mop bucket, Isabel, that’s the issue.
Right.

Whatever, she was just glad to have her hand in his, for balance and for the seemingly perfect fit of their fingers.

Don’t get used to this, Isabel! Just don’t.

They reached his parking spot on the street back at the Five Breezes Resort, and she smiled at the hot red sports car. Such a bachelor, but one with damn fine taste. And rarely did one of her evening companions open the car door for her. It was sweet. He was sweet.

And God, too damn sexy.

But he made her feel just as sumptuous. She felt his eyes indulge from behind and sensed him examining her every curve as she smoothly and deliberately folded herself into his passenger seat.

“Thank you,” she said, getting wetter between her thighs with the idea of him above her. Soon. But, God, not soon enough.

With a wink and that delicious smile of his, he shut her car door. And at that exact moment, a bus passed, followed by a tidal wave from a Vallarta street puddle. It rose up and over him. And his car. And clear over to the sidewalk.

Isabel shook her head, scared to look. When she did open her eyes, she saw Zack dripping wet outside her window, like a sad, wet dog, a look of awe on his face, his hard chest heaving.

And there it
is.

Case in point for her
one-date
rule. Thankfully, a minor one. Past examples on her sexual escapades—a fender bender with John a month back, and three weeks ago, Drew from Germany had incurred a huge bruise to the head, and to his ego, from a tree limb they’d walked under—all served as important reminders for why she’d made her rule in the first place. If broken, the puddle or the concussion no doubt led to something far worse, far more permanent.

Never
again.

She pulled a scarf from her purse and put it on the
leather-upholstered
driver’s seat as he moped around the front of the car, not even attempting to wipe the muddy street water from his face. She couldn’t see his expression, but it didn’t matter when the clouds opened for another round of rain. She almost laughed, but caught herself so that when he opened the car door, he was greeted by her infinitely warm and empathetic smile.

With one soggy foot inside, he picked up her scarf. “No, please, take it. I don’t want to ruin this. The car’s a rental anyway. And I am hopelessly waterlogged, it wouldn’t even help.” He tossed the scarf onto her lap as he squished into the bucket seat.

“It was my fault, anyway,” she muttered, even though he couldn’t possibly understand why.

“Yeah it was. If you weren’t so goddamn gorgeous, attracting the attention of every man, woman,
and
roadside puddle…or rather, lake…” He snickered, one sultry eyebrow raised.

She reached over the gearshift and with the tip of the scarf, she tenderly wiped away the rolling droplets cascading down his nose. “Strange, because I didn’t notice any one else’s attention but yours.” She smirked, blinked then stared—God, she could drown in those sea green eyes.

“Mmmm.” The deep rumble in his chest hit her ears. Her answer pleased him.

And his obvious hunger pleased her. But it was when his lip curled with sinister delight, and his
forever-gaze
deepened, and the rain turned from pattering to pounding all around them, that the
all-out
crescendo of the combination made her core’s ache billow to overwhelming lust for this man. This stranger.

Only one beat passed before their hands reached for each other in unison, and mouths crashed. An inhaling,
all-powering
kiss. Fast and furious and rain soaked. Breath caught and found, then lost again. Too much, and not enough.

*

“Let’s get back to your room,” she panted through entwined lips, “and get you out of these wet clothes.”

And his reply? More depth, more fire, more insane heat infused into the connection their lips had already made.

God, that kiss. It stole her breath, her sight, her hearing. And her soul screamed for more still.

But Zack pulled away,
wide-eyed
, surprised, shocked even. Had he felt the same indescribable intensity that she had? Overpowering. Surreal.

She hunted for the answer in his face as he caught his breath. She broke a smile, because his narrowed eyes searched her face with what seemed like the very same question.

He took one last lungful of air, then nodded his head. “Yes, wet clothes,” he stammered, started the vehicle and pulled out of the spot, his front tire bumping the curb before screeching into traffic. They were obviously heading farther uptown toward his hotel, and with more speed than was safe on a rainy Vallarta night.

CHAPTER 6

T
hat kiss. Holy
fuck,
that kiss
. Where the hell had this woman come from?

He’d never known such an attraction, an
in-sync
connection, one that was powered beyond sexual energy. What he felt with Isabel was beyond imagination.

And that robotic monotony he’d felt only hours ago was replaced by an energy, a fulfillment. And then that fucking kiss!

Her hand on his thigh, his pulse pounding in every part of his body, he was enthralled and entranced by this woman. Enlivened.

His ass began buzzing with an incoming text.

“That’s something…new.” Isabel smirked.

“Shit—my phone! It must be soaked.” He struggled to get it from his rear pocket.

“Please, let me.” She slid her slender hand under his right ass cheek, into his pocket and pulled out his cell. He caught a glimmer in her eye, and he couldn’t contain his need to touch her, to feel some part of her electric flesh against his
ice-cold
hand.

“I’ll read it at the light,” he said, reaching under her skirt instead. He squeezed her warm and welcoming thigh, then slowly slid his way up, creeping farther still until he met her sweet spot, already wet. Yes, just for him. He plucked the thin strand of her thong, which had been wedged between her silken velvet lips. Then he massaged his way back down to her knee, a small disappointed groan coming from her with his hand’s withdrawal. Goddamn, he wanted to tease her all night long. And he would, and couldn’t wait.

At the red light—the damn
time-wasting
red light—he glanced at the missed text. “Shit. That’s tomorrow,” he thought out loud. Then he turned to Isabel hopefully, trying not to stammer over his words, which was still a goddamn challenge since they’d met earlier that afternoon.

“So, uh, not to jump the metaphorical gun, but tomorrow morning I have a brunch to hit for my attorney’s charity group. Everyone is supposed to bring someone new…so, if you eat…food…” He paused, trying to resurrect the
self-assured
Zack James from wherever he’d gone. At least his cock was still standing strong—it was just his damn words that kept falling short.

He took a good breath and continued. “I assure you, after tonight, you’ll be absolutely famished. You should be my breakfast date.” That at least came out in one piece.

“Thanks, but no, really, I can’t.”

“You don’t eat? It’s gratis!” he teased.

She glared back. “It’s not that, fuck you very much.” She glared with puckered lips.

“It’s cool. I just thought, we’ve had so much fun up to now, and we’ll have even more fun in my suite. A good meal among…friends? A nice topper, that’s all I’m saying.” He glanced at her to see if his nonchalant argument was making an impact, swaying her whatsoever.

Just then, a woman with a baby in her arms stepped into the road. Zack screeched to a stop just in time. Fuck those randomly placed, albeit beautifully landscaped Vallarta street dividers, all with unmarked crosswalk paths.
Jesus
Christ.

The woman just stared at them through the windshield, then continued on, as if it wasn’t 1:00 AM and pitch black on an 80
km-zoned
roadway she had just happened across. With an infant in arms!

“Holy shit, that was just way too close!” Zack’s hands were gripping the steering wheel with all he had. “Puerto Vallarta, damn it! I love her…but, really? I’d rather
not
be put away in a Mexican prison for vehicular manslaughter because they damn near encourage jaywalking! All those manicured grass dividers with a billion paths to death. They’re all along the highway lanes! And then add the insane cabs, ancient buses, random horses, and pizza scooters. Fuck!” he ranted.

“That poor child,” Isabel said quietly and obviously ignoring his frustration, her eyes following the woman and baby, almost as if she was willing them to safety on the far side of the road.

Zack smiled at her sweet side amidst their palpable heat. “Yeah, but who takes a baby out this late at night? Shit, never mind,” he said, pissed that his heightened blood flow was now diverted from his cock up to his racing heart because of his near heart attack from the close call.

She stopped clutching the passenger seat for dear life, moved her hand back to his thigh, bringing him back to the present, and said, “So, I have a rule.”

“Only one? Is it about jaywalking?”

“No, actually. It’s a
one-screw
rule. It ups my game. I always put in my all,” she said jokingly. “And the rule has an obvious subsection: no relationships.”

She was so serious all of a sudden. A different side to her, still sexy, but it threw him a little.

“I like a woman with a strong work ethic,” he answered to part one of her comment. “But as for a relationship, I would hardly say a brunch counts. An innocent late morning meal between…friends, physically close friends, is nothing to fear, right?” he asked her as he turned into the portico of the Airington.

The conversation paused there as Zack handed the valet his keys, and then went around the car to usher Isabel out, taking her hand, and keeping it in his grasp.

The silence and lust between them was thick as he led her through the lobby and into the elevator.

*

The elevator doors slid shut.

He pressed the penthouse floor.

Then he pushed her sumptuous ass into the elevator handrail and ground into the center of her smooth mocha thighs. “But one thing you
should
fear,” he continued their car talk, “is an addictive sexual encounter with me.” He breathed into her right ear with an intentional tone of arrogance. He might have been a Jittery Jason when it came to casual conversation with this woman, but his usual stride was all there when it came to the topic of pleasuring the living daylights out of this woman.

She played coy, not letting his desperately seeking mouth reach hers, and his lust magnified with every teasing twist of her head.

The elevator stopped at the penthouse, and he let her feet down to the floor. They exited the elevator, and as they walked, his hand slid into place low on her hip. Then he gently pushed her in front of him, wanting to watch her walk, her buttocks swaying, calling to him. His gaze moved up her back stopping at
his
puzzle piece. He wanted so bad to outline it with the tip of his tongue, then down her spine, all the way down to her smooth, round ass, and then around to the front to what his fingers gleaned from the car ride was a freshly shaven mound.
Heaven.

He stuck his hotel key into the slit, and the door opened gracefully. Before entering, Isabel hesitated. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.”

She smiled, no eye contact. “Zack, just wanting to be clear. I like to keep it casual. I draw my line at one night. That’s really all we’ve got.”

His eyes focused on her like lasers, not worried about her lines. Not worried at all. Because for all the
self-assurance
he lacked around this woman, he had an overwhelming amount of confidence in the undeniable fire ignited between them. That fire would turn any and all lines either of them dared to draw to fine,
wind-strewn
ash.

“Got it.” And he escorted her into his suite and shut the door behind them.