Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Sounds a lot like me. The few times I’ve tried to date women who are exactly like me, it’s never worked out.
I can’t force her to walk on the beach with me.
So I decide to ask her nicely.
“Would you please accompany me to the beach?” I say with a smile.
She sighs and then holds the door open. “All right. Let me get my suit and my coverup on. Wait here.”
“I’m right across the hall from you. Just knock on my door when you’re ready. I need to get my trunks.”
She nods.
I return to my suite and hurriedly put on a pair of navy board shorts. I throw a light-blue T-shirt over my head, grab a towel, and slide my feet into my flip-flops.
Then I wait outside my door.
A moment later, Tessa emerges—
And I nearly lose my breath.
Her hair is now in a sleek high ponytail that falls down her back, and she’s not wearing a white bikini. No. It’s royal blue, and she looks like a fucking model. Her coverup is simple black mesh, and she holds a white towel from her bathroom.
I can’t gawk at her. That will make her uncomfortable.
“You look amazing.” I hold out my arm. “Shall we?”
I don’t expect her to take my arm, so I’m surprised when she does.
We say nothing as we walk to the elevator, descend, and then walk out the resort the few steps to the beach.
The sun is going down, and we pass Betsy and others. They’re having a drink at the beachside bar.
“Tessa!” Betsy waves us over.
Tessa and I head to the bar.
“Hey, you guys,” Betsy says. “Frankie makes a mean margarita, Tessa.”
“I’m sure he does, but I think I’ll stick to water.”
Betsy frowns a bit but then says, “Of course.”
“I’ll try a margarita,” I tell the bartender. “And I’d like an ice water for the lady, please.”
“Coming up, Mr. Black.”
Frankie pours a glass of water and mixes my drink quickly. I hand the water to Tessa and hold up my margarita. “To an amazing evening.”
Betsy and the other girls join in, giggling.
I take a sip of the margarita. The combination of salt, lime, and tequila is a little too much for me.
Margaritas are okay, but I may as well be drinking limeade with some salt. I’d much prefer a Wild Turkey.
“Shall we?” I say to Tessa again.
I hold up my arm, but this time she doesn’t take it. She does, however, follow me away from the others.
Tessa and I dump our towels and then walk along the shoreline, away from the commotion.
The sun is setting, and its tangerine-and-purple hues over the horizon are mesmerizing. The rays cascade over the rippling blue of the ocean.
I gaze outward, and then I gaze at Tessa.
And I think I may have found something more beautiful than this breathtaking Jamaican sunset.
Chapter Thirteen
Tessa
Something’s happening in my hand. My fingers are tingling, but for once it’s not from nerves.
Except it is, in a different way.
And I recognize it.
I recognize it from something the old Tessa used to feel when she was attracted to a man.
Tingles starting in my fingers. Tingles that made me smile, giggle, flirt.
This Tessa doesn’t smile, giggle, or flirt.
Still, the tingles are there.
Part of me wants to step closer to Ben, maybe grab his pinky with mine, feel his warmth as he entwines it around my own.
Part of me is scared to death of that prospect.
I stop walking, turn, and look at the ocean.
It’s so beautiful, a sparkling dark blue as the sun sets.
I take a drink of my water, and I look at Ben. The soft ocean breeze drifts over his hair, messing it up.
And if possible, he’s even more handsome.
This is a man who is equally at home in a suit and tie as he is in trunks and a T-shirt, walking along the beach.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, why?”
“You stopped walking.”
I turn and meet his gaze. His dark eyes are so beautiful and searching. “I wanted to look at the ocean. I’ve always loved it. It’s so vast. Its beauty is unequaled, especially right at sunset. If we stay here and just watch, we’ll be able to see the very last edge of the sun go beneath the horizon. Beneath the waterline.”
“It is gorgeous,” he says. “But it’s not as beautiful as the woman watching it.”
The tingles in my fingers again.
Ben stands beside me, gazing out at the ocean with me.
Again, my pinky itches to grab his.
Such a tiny tender touch, and I want it.
But I’m afraid to want it.
What if my body reacts in a bad way? What if the fear overpowers the desire?
It’s too soon.
Way too soon.
Besides, Ben Black is a player. He’s in the tabloids with a new woman on his arm every week.
I can’t get involved with him.
Especially if he has demons.
Perhaps he truly does.
Part of me wants to learn about him—everything that makes him who he is.