“To the beach.”
“Clayton, that's a silly question. I'll be wearing a bathing suit.”
“The one you had on this morning?”
“No, not that one,” Syneda replied, turning toward the direction of her bedroom. “But it's one similar to it. Why?”
“Wait up. I think I'll build that sandcastle with you.”
Syneda turned around and gave him a surprised look. “I thought you were tired.”
“I've suddenly found myself with a new burst of energy.”
Later that evening Clayton and Syneda entered a restaurant that the condo's management had recommended. It was a place on Anastasia Island known for fresh seafood and tropical drinks. After enjoying a feast of assorted seafoods, they left the restaurant section of the establishment to enter its lounge. They were led by a waiter to an empty table in the back that had a wonderful view of the ocean.
After the waiter departed with their drink orders, Clayton rested back in his chair. “I'm curious as to where you buy your clothes.”
Syneda raised a brow. “Why?”
“Just curious.” In fact, he was more than curious. He was having a difficult time keeping his eyes off her long, smooth legs that were showing from the outfit she had on, a minilength sundress with three tiers of ruffles on the hem. The outfit was blatantly sexy. Too sexy.
“I buy my things from a number of places. I don't shop at any one particular store. That reminds me. I need to go shopping while I'm here. I want to get something for the kids.”
Clayton knew what kids she was referring to: his nieces and nephews who called her Aunt Neda. “Are you enjoying yourself, Syneda?”
“Yes. I'm feeling more relaxed than I have in days,” she replied with a smile. “I want to thank you again for inviting me.”
“My pleasure.”
Syneda smiled. “When the waiter returns with our drinks I want to propose a toast.”
“To what?”
“Our friendship.”
Clayton swallowed hard. Friendship was the last thing on his mind and he felt guilty as sin. His mouth was watering over the sight of her, and she wanted to toast their friendship. And if her outfit wasn't bad enough, the perfume she had on was drifting around and through him. If only she knew how enticing the fragrance was. Her light makeup was immaculate and her hair appeared soft to the touch. He had taken this trip to clear his mind, but being around Syneda was beginning to turn his brains to mush.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked abruptly.
“The waiter hasn't returned with our drinks yet.”
“He'll hold them,” Clayton answered tersely, reaching across the small table and taking her hand. A slow-moving song was playing as he led her to the dance floor, which was crowded with other couples.
He knew it had been a mistake to ask her to dance the minute he took her into his arms and pulled her close. Her hands automatically folded loosely behind his neck, which caused her breasts to press against his chest.
Syneda tilted her head back and looked up at him. “What about you, Clayton? Are you enjoying yourself?”
Clayton looked down at her. She looked absolutely stunning. “Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“I'm positive,” he replied, pulling her closer.
They continued the dance in silence. He was so engrossed in the feel of having her in his arms that at first he didn't notice the tap on his shoulder. When he did, he turned and looked into the face of a man he'd noticed eyeing Syneda when they had first entered the lounge.
“May I cut in?” the man asked with a deep southern accent.
“No, you can't.”
“Why not?” the man asked gruffly, obviously put off by Clayton's rudeness.
Clayton faced the man squarely. “Because I said so, that's why. Now back off.”
“Clayton!”
“Excuse us,” Clayton said to the man he'd been tempted to bring down a notch moments earlier. Taking Syneda's hand he led her back to their table.
“Clayton, what in the world is wrong with you? That was downright rude.”
“I was protecting your sweet behind since you don't seem to notice it needs protecting. That guy's been drooling over you ever since we entered this place. He's just one of many men who are undressing you with their eyes.”
“They're not!”
“They are, too! Just look at that outfit you're wearing. It invites stares.”
Syneda stared at him with anger reflecting in her eyes and her mouth open. “I don't believe you, Clayton. There's nothing wrong with my outfit.”
“Not if you're a woman looking for a pickup.”
“How dare you—”
“You didn't want to come on vacation with me for fear of cramping my style. Maybe I should have made sure I wouldn't be cramping yours,” he said curtly.
Syneda stood. “I'm leaving.”
Throwing more than enough money on the table to cover the drinks they had ordered but not yet gotten, Clayton followed a fuming Syneda out of the door. Leaving the lounge, they rode in silence along the shoreline road that led back to the condos. As soon as he opened the door to the condo, Syneda entered and went straight to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Clayton let out a disgusted sigh as he poured a drink and stepped out on the terrace. He stood transfixed for an hour or so looking at the ocean that was lit only by the moon's glow. He turned around when he heard a movement behind him. Syneda stood before him. She had changed into a nightshirt.
“Clayton, I'm sorry. I can't believe we had an argument after agreeing not to.”
Clayton held open his arms and she walked into them. He pulled her close to him. “I'm the one who should be apologizing, Syneda. I behaved like a jerk tonight and I apologize. There was nothing wrong with the way you were dressed. You looked sensational. I guess I'm so used to eyeing women myself that I know what goes through other men's minds when I see them doing it. And I don't want them thinking about you that way. I guess I've taken it upon myself to be your protector while we're here.”
“Yeah, so I've noticed. But Clayton, you don't have to protect me. I'm twenty-eight and old enough to take care of myself. Have you forgotten that I live alone in New York?”
Clayton smiled down at her. “Deep down I know you can take care of yourself, but that doesn't keep me from wanting to do it for you.”
Syneda
