They all chatted and compared tan lines, or murmured comments about the bartender’s buns.
When she was finally close enough to get a look, she saw that all he wore was a red bow tie and a G-string. His partner, a blond woman who didn’t even look twenty-one, wore a skimpy flesh-colored bikini top with her G-string, close enough to her own skin tone that Carly took a second look.
The entire place was about sex. The predatory looks, the sultry music, the way both the employees and guests dressed. Even the drinks had suggestive names. It was kind of fun because she didn’t know anyone. Scary, too, though.
“I met you last year, didn’t I?”
The voice was close to her ear, and Carly slid a look at the man standing beside her. “Me?”
He grinned. “You were here last September only your hair was longer.” He made a slashing motion with his hand indicating a chin-length hairstyle.
“Sorry, wrong gal.”
He frowned. “You’re sure?”
“I think I’d remember being here before.”
His brown eyes sparkled with laughter. “I’m sure you would.”
The line moved and she edged closer to the bar, acutely aware that he’d moved up behind her. Close enough that his breath stirred her hair. He wasn’t really her type. A little too muscle-bound, but he had a terrific smile. And nice eyes.
She inched into a position where she could safely turn her head and said, “I take it you’re a repeat guest.”
“Third year in a row.” He already had a drink in his hand and he took a big swig. “Great beaches, free booze, beautiful women.” His gaze lowered insolently, and she fought a shiver. “What’s not to like about the place?”
The line moved again, giving her a graceful way out of the conversation. She gave him her back, hoping he’d take the hint that she wasn’t interested. Not even ten seconds passed when she heard him ask, “I met you here last year, right?”
She glanced back in time to see the woman behind him beam in answer. Sighing, Carly turned her attention back toward the bar.
This was what she wanted, she reminded herself. She’d purposely selected this resort because she knew it catered to singles. Heck, like everyone else here, she had every intention of getting laid this week. The affair would be anonymous, brief, and then she’d get on with her life. The guy behind her apparently had a similar agenda. He was just more open about it. Maybe she was being too picky.
It was finally her turn and she stepped up to the bar and ordered two mai tais with extra pineapple. She gave the bartender two purple beads in exchange, and then carried the drinks back to Ginger—who wasn’t there. Probably in the bathroom checking her teeth for lipstick.
Carly took a sip of her mai tai, wincing at its potency. Good thing she hadn’t ordered doubles. The fresh pineapple smelled heavenly and she was dying for a bite, but with both hands full, she’d be asking for trouble. She took another sip instead, feeling the stinging heat in her cheeks.
She hadn’t eaten anything since she’d left Salt Lake that morning and the alcohol was doing a number on her stomach. The pineapple wouldn’t be much but it would help the slight burning. If only Ginger would hurry and get back….
Carly spotted her on the dance floor. Under a spotlight, her red hair glistened as she danced to a Rod Stewart song. Her partner was a tall, long-haired guy Ginger had been eyeing earlier.
The song ended, and Carly felt annoyingly relieved. She was glad Ginger had been asked to dance, but she hated standing here by herself. The next song started and Ginger kept dancing. Sighing, Carly took another sip of her mai tai, wishing like crazy they’d grabbed something to eat as she felt the alcohol burn a path down to her stomach.
She glanced around for an empty table or somewhere to set down the drinks, and noticed a dark-haired guy staring at her. Not too tall, maybe a shade under six feet, with a wiry athletic build. She took another foolish sip and focused on the dance floor, trying to pretend she hadn’t noticed him.
Ginger had really gotten into the spirit of things. Plastered up against her partner, she wiggled and writhed until Carly couldn’t watch anymore. She finished her drink, clumsily bit the pineapple off the rim of her empty glass, and threw her head back to make sure she didn’t lose the slippery wedge. The fruit was a little tart, but she polished it off and then started on Ginger’s mai tai.
“Carly?”
She turned toward the masculine voice. It was him—the dark-haired guy who’d been staring.
He smiled. “Carly Saunders, right?”
Stunned, she nodded. “Do I know you?” She squinted at the prominent cleft in the center of his chin. Now that he was closer he did look familiar.
“You don’t remember?”
Slowly, she shook her head, wondering if this was another feeble come-on. She sure hoped so. She wasn’t supposed to know a soul here. Anonymity was the beauty of this vacation. A necessity, in fact.
He put a hand to his heart, laughter dancing in his hazel eyes. “After we spent two wonderful summers together? I’m deeply offended. Crushed, in fact. I’ll probably never be the same.”
“I think you have me mixed up with—” A flood of warm memories washed over her. “Rick?”
He grinned and held open his arms.
She could only stare. God, he’d filled out beautifully. His shoulders were so broad, his legs long and lean in his snug-fitting jeans. No wonder she hadn’t recognized him. Sadly, after a dozen or so years, she obviously looked the same.
“Damn, it’s good to see you. Come here.”
She shifted the drink to her left hand and awkwardly extended her right one.
Ignoring it, Rick slid his arms around her and lifted her off the floor. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
Carly tried to wiggle free. “For goodness sake, put me down.”
He did just that. Slowly. Letting her body slide down his. He stiffened suddenly, the look on his face suggesting he’d figured out that move wasn’t such a good idea. “Wow, kid, you’re all grown up.”
Carly touched the floor and immediately stepped back. “Enough that you can stop calling me kid.”
“Yeah.” He pushed a hand through his hair, looking a little bemused. “What’s it been, ten, eleven years?”
“More like twelve.” Amazing how suddenly and vividly she remembered that last day they’d spent together. They’d watched the beavers build a dam across the stream below his grandmother’s house.
Carly had reached a milestone the day before. She’d turned thirteen, become a young lady and convinced herself he’d finally return her adoration. She’d suffered her first broken heart that summer.
“I think I’d just had my sixteenth birthday that last vacation I spent at Gram’s.”
“That
