What would I say, anyway? Hey, sorry your mom’s a raging bitch and you were too much of a wimp to stand up to them? Or, why didn’t you warn me before your psycho mom ambushed me on our wedding day? Would I scream at him? Cry? I didn’t want to do any of those things. I didn’t want to cry over Jeremy anymore.
I’d blinded myself into believing once we were married, his parents’ approval wouldn’t matter. Even more naïve, I’d hoped they’d learn to accept me—I’d wanted the fairytale so badly.
Pathetic.
My naiveté only fueled my anger. And yet, how could I have anticipated he would give up on us—on me—so easily? No matter how I obsessed over it, no matter how I pulled apart every conversation we’d had in the last couple of months, no matter how I dissected and analyzed every disagreement since our engagement party, I still couldn’t see any signs our relationship would end up like this—that I would be spending our honeymoon alone.
How easily had he given in? Had there even been an argument? Was there any hesitation at all, or had he signed the dotted line mere seconds after the mention of “disinheritance”? Not like it mattered. It was done. I hated him for it. Hated I’d been so wrong about him.
The toad.
The cocktail waitresses here at the resort were fabulous. They were all over the place, always eager to help, happy to hand me a new cocktail each time mine ran dry. Drinking like a lush seemed the best way to spend my supposed-to-be-honeymoon vacation. Really, what did I have to lose, and who did I have to impress?
No one. That’s who.
A week ago, I was Sleeping Beauty. Today, I was just a woman who wasn’t sure she believed in fairytales anymore. To say I was jaded was putting it mildly. I supposed that’s what happened when the first time a girl fell in love, the beast broke her heart, and the second time she fell in love, prince charming turned out to be a toad. I was tired of the Treat-Lexie-Like-Dirt-Parade. I hated that damn parade. That parade could kiss my ass.
I giggled drunkenly. In the Caribbean, rum flowed like water. Maybe I’d regret this tomorrow, but today I just didn’t give a damn. Laughter and lazy conversation drifted through the lush gardens surrounding the resort and its pools. I was glad for the crowd. I could get lost in it, and no one noticed or cared I was alone. Trailing my fingers through the water of the infinity pool beside me, I rested my head back and gazed out over the ocean.
I love the islands.
I hummed along to the music, tapping my foot to the beat, when my gaze landed on a man who looked so much like Leo. The man strolled beside a statuesque brunette on the other side of the pool. I blinked, shook my head, and then rubbed my eyes.
“Too much booze,” I muttered. The image, clearly concocted by my inebriated fantasies, was so perfect, so detailed, as if he were…
real?
I yanked my earbuds out of my ears and set the music player beside my drink on the patio. My heart raced. The longer I stared, the more he looked like my ex. My eyes drank up every inch of his tanned, muscular body. The muscles in his abs, fine-tuned and defined by years of service and military training—I couldn’t look away. Not like I wanted to. Dear God, he was perfect
.
But what the hell is he doing here?
On this island. With his smoking hot body and irresistible smile. With
me.
And
her. The beast.
Irritated, I sucked at the drink straw. Karma hated me. She wasn’t satisfied with flipping me off; she’d stopped by to choke out the last ounce of dignity I had left. Karma, the bitch, had chased me across the ocean to finish me off.
Leo smiled at something the brunette said while his lazy gaze traveled around the pool. Of course he had a girlfriend. Why wouldn't he? No way would a man who looked like him be single. Most women were putty in his hands after one smile and sultry gaze.
Including me.
I realized he would see me—alone, pathetic—while he traipsed around with his girlfriend. She looked like a hooker. Well, a wealthy hooker. Okay, so her swimsuit was gorgeous. But really, a little overkill on the do-me-I’m-easy vibe. Her swimsuit was the only thing I could find wrong with her.
My heart beat a furious staccato in my chest. Running would draw attention to myself, which left only one option.
I placed a hand on the top of my hat and rolled over, right off of the lounge chair and straight into the pool in what I hoped was a graceful and soundless move. The splash before my head went under told me otherwise, but I was drunk and in denial, which was my right, after all. I had come alone on purpose—I could do whatever the hell I wanted.
The problem with my plan was that I would have to come up for air soon. So, I did what any desperate woman would do—I popped the hat out of the water just enough to let air into the cap of the hat. I shoved my nose and mouth up into the air pocket and gulped air like a fish out of water through the thin woven straw. If I could stay underwater like this for a few minutes longer, Leo and his hooker would be gone. I’d been torturing myself with cardio for years; surely I could tread water for a few minutes with my neck craned like this.
No big deal. I so got this.
But treading water while using a sun hat for a breathing apparatus was much more difficult than it had sounded in my head. Under the hat, the seconds ticked by slowly. My legs were getting tired.
Stupid rum.
There was a splash, and then a pair of strong arms encircled me, sliding around my body like wet satin, pulling me against warm, solid steel. Exhausted and drunk, I let my body go lax, let myself drift around him like seaweed tightening around the limbs of an unsuspecting swimmer. I swear, it was as if my body was attuned to Leo’s, whether I wanted it to be or not.
“Lexie, open your eyes.” The low tone of his voice reverberated through my body, hit me deep in my chest, all the way down to curl my toes.
I shook my head. “
Uh-uh
.”
“Lexie, open your eyes.”
“Nope,” I said. Maybe I was lightheaded from treading water with my makeshift snorkel. Or maybe it was because the man I had dreamed about for too many years held me again. And this grown up version of Leo was bigger, stronger, and smelled a whole hell of a lot better than any memory I’d ever had, and much better than any man I’d been with since. I’d had a taste of Leo way back when, and that part of me was all over him right now.
You are a drunken disaster.
Wasn’t this exactly what being on a Caribbean island was all about? Being drunk and smashed up against a sexy man in a swimming pool, barely clothed. Every part of him was hard…
every part.
I kept my eyes closed and pretended that in our past lives he wasn’t the guy whose very existence was my undoing. Or…
Maybe this really is a dream?
Maybe with the stress of my botched wedding, I’d taken to imagining the one man in the entire world I had always wanted more than anything or anyone else for so many years. In his absence, I had learned to live without him, until it had become a dormant longing bursting out like fire licking across my skin.
“Lexie.” His voice rolled across my backbone, and I sucked in a breath of air.
I shook my head again—if this was a dream, I didn’t want to open my eyes and wake up. This dream was nice and warm—and sexiest I’d had in awhile.
“Fine. You leave me no choice,” he growled.
The gruff, irritated tone of his voice should have been a warning, but his lips against mine still shocked me. I went stiff in his arms, but only for a second, because—and I’d be mortified about it later—he tasted so damn good, my legs clenched around him so I could feel him pressed tight against me.
Kissing him was as it had always been—hot, passionate, mind-blowing.
Confusing.
The way his lips moved over mine, gently nudging mine apart, kissing me like a man starved of his favorite dessert, made my heartbeat trip over itself.
I stopped thinking. I pressed myself to him as if it were as natural as taking breaths of air. His tongue slid against mine, and my arms curled around his neck, reminding me we’d never been bad at this. We’d always burned too hot. Me losing my mind in a pool with Leo thousands of miles from home—well, I could handle the heat.
Someone cleared their throat, but I didn’t pay any attention. Didn’t they know they were ruining my daydream?
Jeez
.
“Lex,” Leo whispered against my lips, and I blinked my eyes open, dazed. The green orbs I had dreamed about for so many years shined like polished gems in the sunlight.
“You look so real,” I whispered and pressed my fingertips against his wet cheek.
“Let’s get you out of the pool,” he said.
“Right,” I mumbled. Because he wasn’t a daydream, and I had made a fool of myself. Again.
His fingers encircled my waist, and he lifted me from the pool with little effort. There was an awkward tug before my legs unwrapped from around his waist, and then he set me up on the patio. Hands from above encircled my arms, and I looked up into the face of the beautiful brunette.
My mind cleared. And this time, the heat inside was from red hot embarrassment. What the hell had he been thinking, kissing me in front of his girlfriend? Did he think I was some kind of runaway bride tramp? Was this some kind of twisted sex game for them? I shook her hands off my arms, then bent to sweep my music player off the patio and my soggy hat from where it had fallen. I swiped my mess of hair from my wet cheeks and backed away.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, though I wasn’t thankful at all, and my tone let them know it. Then I plopped the dripping hat on my head and walked away on a mission to find a bar on the other side of the island. Or maybe I’d just grab a bottle and go back to my villa where I could get drunk beside my private pool, and there would be no chance of running into the brunette and Leo.
The beast.
“What are you doing?”
I looked up at the gruff, irritated voice. The tight pinch to his lips only enticed me to press his buttons.
“I’m talking to this nice man, that’s what I’m doing.” I smiled at the guy next to me—a good-looking doctor in his mid-thirties, on vacation and ringless. Not that it mattered; I wasn’t interested in a relationship, or anything intimate, or any man at this point in my life.
The outdoor bar was in the middle of a garden, the patio decorated with shiny ceramic potters and tropical plants. A few of the tables were occupied, but there were only the two of us sitting at the bar. After Mr. Smiley Doctor sat down, he’d listened to me ramble for the last hour about everything and nothing all at once. By now, I had no filter. I’d just clued him and Sarah, the bartender, in on the wedding scandal.
“Everyone, this is Leo, my ex.”
“The groom?” Sarah asked, and all eyes turned to Leo. He looked positively homicidal. I batted my eyelashes at him.
“Nope, Leo’s not that jerk ex.” I leaned into the bar and told her, “But he did dump me through a letter.”
I peeked another glance at Leo, whose jaw clenched, and his biceps flexed as he crossed his arms.
“Wow.” Sarah glared at Leo. But he was so nice to look at; she ended up averting her eyes, her cheeks reddening under his gaze.
The beast.
I swiveled on my stool to face the doctor. “And then he showed up to my wedding in jeans and a t-shirt.
A t-shirt.
Can you believe it?”
“A t-shirt,” the doctor repeated with a sideways glance at Leo.
“And now he’s here.
With his girlfriend
.” The absurdity of it made me giggle. Everything was a little funny. “I mean, what are the chances?” I patted the doctor’s sunburned arm, and he winced. “Jeff, right?”
His pearl white smile wavered. “Paul.”
“Paul. Right.” I met Leo’s simmering gaze. “Did you need something?”
“Can I have a word with you?” His jaw muscles flexed again.
“You look like you could use a drink. Sit,” I said, gesturing to the empty stools around us. “You don’t mind if he joins us, do you?” Sarah shook her head. I glanced at Paul. “Paul?”
Paul’s rigid posture told me he did mind, but he shook his head. “No, of course not.”
Leo wedged a stool between me and Paul and sat down, forcing Paul to stand and scoot his stool over. The men shook hands, sizing each other up like a bunch of macho meatheads. I rolled my eyes to the blue sky and remembered I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. All this testosterone made me crave man food, like burgers and wings. Maybe a big basket of curly fries. My stomach growled.
“So, Leo, what is it that you do for a living?” Paul asked.
“Security.” Leo eyed the empty glass I slid across the bar to Sarah.
“Security? That sounds exciting,” Paul said, not sounding as if he meant it.
“Leo is Special Forces,” I said, then frowned because I sounded defensive, as if I cared or something. I didn’t.
Nope.
“Ex,” Leo added.
“Special Forces,” Sarah breathed, taking another sweep of Leo’s firm build and wide shoulders. Okay, so he was impressive. “That must have—” Sarah glanced at his chest, “—taken a lot of training.”
“Yes,” Leo replied, though he didn’t sound as if he cared to talk about it. The experience hadn’t exactly been all glory for him, even if he’d come home with medals. Maybe a younger version of Leo would have bragged, but the man beside me was more grown up than the teenager I’d known, with arms the size of holiday hams. Holiday hams made me think of food again, and my stomach grumbled. I pulled the dish of complimentary peanuts to me and popped a couple into my mouth. Honey roasted. My favorite.