Sex Holiday Read online

  SEX HOLIDAY

  Cowboy Sex 4

  Natalie Acres

  POLYAMOUR

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000."

  If you find a Siren-BookStrand e-book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know at

  [email protected]

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: PolyAmour

  SEX HOLIDAY

  Copyright © 2009 by Natalie Acres

  E-book ISBN: 1-60601-704-7

  First E-book Publication: December 2009

  Cover design by Jinger Heaston

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2009 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my husband with love and gratitude. I’m able to pursue my dreams because of you. Sometimes I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

  SEX HOLIDAY

  Cowboy Sex 4

  NATALIE ACRES

  Copyright © 2009

  Chapter One

  Patience McKay sat on the bright, tangerine-colored skin board. Her toes touched the water, but her heart stayed out of reach. For over five months, she’d felt completely dead, living without a cause.

  Today, she woke up to change. Her pity party ended when she kicked the sheets off the bed and rolled over to a bright, hot sun magnifying off of the bedroom window. When she stepped onto her balcony, her spirits lifted, following right behind the rising temperature.

  Yes, today should have been the first day of the rest of her life. Good Lord, she could’ve been on every talk show host’s guest list. She felt empowered, motivated, willful, and quite frankly, full of shit.

  She stared at the waves. The positive impact of self affirmations should’ve motivated her to move her spreading ass or at least inspired a little exercise. Unfortunately, as quickly as her new attitude arrived, depression revisited again.

  Resisting the urge to call up the sources of her sadness, along with their wives—damn it to hell—she sat on the sandy shore of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, worshipping the sun and savoring the summer-like weather conditions.

  A flock of noisy seagulls flew right in front of her face. Startled, Patience fluttered her hand in an effort to shoo them away. The lead bird landed inches from where she sat, and the others followed suit. They seemed drawn to her. Several of them even waddled into her space after their brilliant crash-landing.

  “I don’t have anything to offer you,” she said to the feathery creatures.

  “Oh, I disagree,” a man said.

  Tenting her hand over her brow, Patience peered around her shoulder. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You said, ‘I don’t have anything to offer you’ and I beg to differ.”

  Patience studied the stranger with one eye open since he chose to stand in front of the sun. Standing about six feet tall, the cowboy wore a hat perched on his head, not to mention expensive boots on his feet, both of which distracted her.

  Yeah buddy, he represented the kind of man she avoided back home.

  “May I?” he asked, pointing to the vacant spot next to her.

  Come to think of it, the entire area around her looked quite deserted. In December, the Bay View Resort probably didn’t keep a full house.

  She patted the ground. “Sure, if you don’t mind getting your denim blues white-washed all over again, have a sandy seat.”

  He grinned when he squatted next to her. Extending his hand, he said, “I’m Mark McCoy.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said. She didn’t mean it. “I’m Patience McKay.” Or that either.

  In reality, she had no idea who she was without David and Danny Joseph. For over two years, her life revolved around them. At some point during those twenty-four months, she lost Patience, in more ways than one.

  “Are you staying here?” he asked, thumbing the resort behind them.

  She arched her brow. “No, I like to hang out in front of the Bay View.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, really?”

  “Yep, absolutely. The guests frequenting this place have the most unusual assortment of beach attire,” she said, noting another peculiar character about fifty feet away, rolling up the pant legs of his Armani business suit.

  Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to Mr. Cowboy.

  He tilted his hat and said, “The boots get a woman’s attention every time.”

  If he drew a crowd, Patience doubted they gathered because of his outerwear. An outrageously handsome man with curly, dark black hair and eyes to match, the cowboy held the intrigue, not his damn Stetson.

  She should stop right now, she thought. She didn’t have the desire to pursue another rebel in denim. She’d had enough to last her three lifetimes.

  “Are you here for the holidays?”

  “No,” she stated flatly.

  “So how long are you staying?”

  Patience frowned. She hadn’t planned on returning home to Asheville until after New Year’s, but if the sexy inquisitive one didn’t back off, she might head for the mountains and pull into her driveway right before midnight.

  “Are you spending the holidays here?” she asked, refusing him an answer.

  “Yes, we arrived last week and plan to stay a little over a month. I kind of like South Carolina in the wintertime.”

  “I see,” she said.

  The tide rolled in and rinsed out. She watched the beige-colored sand claim the tips of Mark’s boots. Outside of stamping his feet in the wet grit and grime, the water stains on his fine leather didn’t seem to faze him. Instead, his gaze pierced hers and, by hell, he didn’t waste a minute of time perusing lower since he already looked once.

  Patience kept her hourglass figure no thanks to her mother’s hounding and insistence on rigorous early morning workouts. At home, she joined her mom five days a week at six o’clock in the morning to pump iron and run across a treadmill. Then they cooled down with yoga class. The schedule was insane, even for a woman in her early twenties, especially since the effort hadn’t paid off. She still didn’t have an interesting man on the line, or the desire to hook one.

  Men who saw her instantly eyed her full chest and then her shapely legs. The more the cowboy stared, the more tempted she was to ask if he’d like to see her firm ass. Maybe
she should’ve stood, possibly even bent over. Scrutiny made her nervous. Maybe it made her stupid, too.

  “All right,” he said. “I have a confession.”

  She snickered. “I may look like I have it together, but trust me, I’m not a priest.”

  He laughed. “What a relief.”

  “Or a saint,” she informed.

  “You could pass for an angel,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  “You could give lessons in come-on lines.” She clapped her hands together, dusting the sand off of her palms.

  “As I was saying,” he continued, “my brother and I are staying here, also.”

  “I assumed. I didn’t think you’d wandered up the beach dressed like that.”

  “Got a thing against cowboys?”

  At the moment? Everything. “No,” she said. “I grew up on a ranch and my dads—don’t ask—are cattlemen.”

  “We’re not stalkers or anything, so don’t worry.”

  “Criminals?”

  “No,” he said, chuckling. “I’ve never been arrested, but a few times I probably should’ve been.”

  She smirked. “I’ll bet.” She knew about those kinds of cowboys, too. Those good old boys possessed quick tempers and they often flared in public.

  “I’m kidding,” he said, smiling.

  She doubted that one. She’d never met a cowboy who didn’t deserve at least one night behind steel bars.

  “Anyway,” he said, straightening out of his stooped position. “We’ve noticed you walking down to the pier every morning, so I wanted to come on over and say hello.” Mark extended his hand again. “The pleasure was all mine, Miss McKay.”

  “Likewise, Mr. McCoy.”

  “I’ll patrol the area for you again soon.”

  She snickered. “I’d like that.”

  When he walked away, she cursed herself, her very existence. What the hell did she do anyway? One of the straggling white birds flapped its wings, leaving behind a chirp chirp chirp in its wake.

  Smart bird, she decided. Even a seagull understood ignorance.

  She stood up, shook off the board she sat on more than used for skimming across the water, and then quickly swiped the sand from her legs and hips. In the distance, she saw Mark heading up the narrow path toward the resort. He stopped, turned, and waved.

  Instantly, she stuck her arm in the air and waved, too. In fact, she stood on her tip-toes and just about broke her wrist in an attempt to return the gesture. She wanted to make sure he saw the only busty, petite, auburn-haired woman standing on the beach.

  Damn, here we go. As usual, she was doing what she did best, inviting trouble. Only this time, she thought, standing a little taller, she refused to chase a disaster waiting to happen.

  Chapter Two

  Two Weeks Later

  Second Week of December

  Patience lugged everything to the beach when she spent a day in the sand. Throughout the course of the day, she’d think of something else she couldn’t live without and she’d rush to the condo and return with still more unnecessary items. Then, after a full day in the warm sun, she’d juggle all of her belongings and make one trip back to her beachside unit.

  With the cooler swinging one way, the boogie and skin boards hooked to the cords behind her back and swaying all over the place, she rounded the corner and headed for the elevator. She ran smack dab into one fine-looking man dressed in black leather and a white fitted T-shirt.

  The handsome rogue’s dark shoulder-length hair ripped through the air behind him and his three-day-old beard completed the sexy factor. If he wanted to appear like the everyday, run-of-the-mill bad ass, he covered his bases well.

  “Watch yourself,” he said in a guttural tone designed to make a woman’s knees, legs, and hips lock, rock, and roll. “With all this stuff, you can’t see where you’re going.”

  Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she popped right out with a saucy rebuttal. “At least I’m headed in the right direction.”

  “Hot damn, I hope so,” he countered. And then, God love his heart, he shifted his helmet under his arm and said, “How about I help you upstairs?”

  Patience froze. Normally, she’d take a helping man’s hand, but something stopped her from accepting right away. “I can manage, but thank you,” she said, her hands barely gripping the bulky items.

  The fellow grinned. “I’m sure you can, Miss McKay, but I gotcha.” Immediately, he relieved her of the two boards, the beach chair, the deflating float, the beach bag—completely stocked with romance novels, her cell phone and other must-have items—and of course, the cooler.

  He stepped inside the elevator and waited for her to follow. “Fifteenth floor, right?”

  Weird and creepy, she thought, keeping her distance while eyeing the man who balanced all of her belongings. “Have we met?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “I’m Spenser McCoy. My brother introduced himself last week when he saw you on the beach.”

  Oh yes, McCoy. Mark, if memory served her well. She knew damn well her mind kept Mark McCoy’s name stored for future reference. In fact, she enjoyed some lovely fantasies about him soon after their chance meeting.

  Okay, wet dreams.

  “Yes,” she said. “But I don’t recall giving him a room number.”

  “I guess Mark didn’t tell you we’re neighbors, huh?”

  “How would he know? I haven’t bumped into you or your brother on my floor.”

  “Don’t fret, little lady,” he said when the ding sounded out announcing their arrival to floor fifteen. “We saw you leaning over the balcony one day right after we arrived.”

  They walked toward her room. Spenser chuckled all of a sudden. “And Mark really didn’t mention anything? I’ll be damned.”

  She didn’t see why he found this amusing. “Nope, not a word,” she confirmed, adding a little spunk to her own tone.

  “Figures,” he said. “I’m gonna have a talk with that boy.”

  “So we’re neighbors?” Great, exactly what she needed. Two fantastic-looking men located right next door. Before long, they’d knock on her door for a little sweet cream and sugar.

  “Oh,” he said. “So you do live here?”

  “No,” she snapped.

  “Vacationing then?”

  “Not exactly.” Running—from men like you, as a matter of fact.

  He shrugged. “Well, either way, I’m glad we had the chance to chat.” He stopped precisely where he should have, in front of her unit. “Now, I gotta run. I’m singing karaoke tonight.”

  “Really?” she asked, arching a brow and suddenly interested. Sparked curiosity came easy when the motivator looked like Spenser McCoy. “Where?”

  “The Bowery. You know it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You should come.”

  “I…I…”

  “Don’t have an excuse, apparently,” he said.

  “No,” she said, grasping for one all the same.

  “Hey, don’t sweat it. If you decide you want to step out and have some fun tonight, we’re in 1509B. Like I said, right over there.” He pointed, snickering as he backed away. “You can catch a ride with Mark if you knock before nine. Karaoke starts around nine-thirty. Hope to see you then.”

  Patience didn’t make any promises. Instead, she unlocked her door and said a polite “thank you,” but when she turned around Spenser was gone.

  Chapter Three

  Five Days Later

  Patience lost every single brain cell she ever retained. Forming a fist, she extended her arm and knocked on the McCoy’s door.

  Swallowing tightly, she let her arm fall and she stared at the brass room numbers, deciding 1509B didn’t look like a dangerous address. Of course, 1509A offered safer appeal. Yes, she mused, she should’ve remained within her comfort zone, tucked away and secured between her own four walls.

  “What the hell am I doing?” She took a backwards step and glared at the door.

  This wasn’t
like her. She didn’t go to bars. She never talked to strangers. She couldn’t carry a tune so karaoke was never really her thing and she did not, under any circumstances, pursue brothers.

  She closed her eyes. Damn it. She shouldn’t have called the twins. Ansley and Kimberly Cartwell, her neighbors and menacing best friends since birth, received her nine-one-one call right after she bumped into the extremely sexy Spenser McCoy. Once again, he’d invited her out on the town.

  She thought of the Cartwell pair again. What a joke. As if she needed the twins to help her reach a decision. What should have been a five-minute phone conversation turned into a one-hour pow-wow. The twins demanded four-one-one details on the McCoy brothers. Then they convinced her she was young, charming, and beautiful, as well as a-v-a-i-l-a-b-l-e, the last of which stung.

  After a nasty break-up with a married guy—a man she planned on marrying prior to discovering his third wife of five years and three kids—and his brother, Patience didn’t need friendly reminders of her recent past. Okay, so it had been five months, twenty-eight days, four hours and a few minutes since she last saw them. She wasn’t keeping tabs down to the last second now, which showed significant improvement.

  She only called the twins to bounce, share the events of her day, and inquire about theirs. A lot of good her little phone call did. They could’ve bent their listening ears but oh no, not Kimberly and certainly not Ansley.

  Instead, they told her how depressing her life sounded. Who wanted to spend the upcoming holidays alone? She dug deep for every seed they planted, deciding it was time to show some growth. Move on and start over.

  Even after they said their farewells, she contemplated their words of so-called wisdom. Experienced in break-ups, the twins had survived several failed relationships. She’d only had one real boyfriend. Technically two, since she maintained a sexual relationship with the Joseph brothers at the same time.