Sex Holiday Page 2

  She opened her eyes and stared at the numbers once more. 1-5-0-9-B now appeared to have a three-D component. Fucking fantastic.

  Things would have been just fine tonight if Spenser McCoy hadn’t joined her poolside long enough to invite her to The Bowery again, for the third time. She could’ve been curled up in bed with a good book, maybe her vibrator, and a bowl of popcorn for the after-sex snack. But oh no, for days all she’d thought about were the McCoys. In fact, she was thinking less and less about the Joseph brothers.

  A warning sign, she mused. The alarms should’ve sounded out all over the world.

  “God bless America,” she muttered. “This is probably the most desperate thing I’ve ever done.”

  She pursed her lips, formed a fist and this time, pounded a few times. “Please don’t answer. Please don’t answer. Please don’t—”

  Mark McCoy opened the door. He crossed his thick arms over a broad chest. He licked his bottom lip like perhaps his mouth tasted like flavored candy. She should’ve asked him to share.

  After he looked as sexy as humanly possible, he said, “I’ve been watching you through the peep-hole.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  Her heart thumped harder and harder against her chest. For a split second she thought the little drummer boy found a new home inside her chest cavity.

  Why were men always hell-bent on telling a woman everything? Didn’t anyone believe in keeping secrets anymore? Scratch that, she knew one man—actually two—who perfected silence. The Joseph brothers believed in keeping mum as a word. They hid wives, children, and never mind the white picket fences. Those fellows lived in affluent neighborhoods and everyone knew them. How she missed the families behind the men, she didn’t know. Leave it to her to double her trouble.

  “I kind of got a kick out of watching you debate whether or not you wanted to knock again.”

  “Did you really?”

  “Yep, I really did,” he drawled. “So tell me. What’s the verdict?”

  She shook her head. “The what?”

  “Are you glad you knocked?”

  Her gaze swept over him. Heaven help her, God stop her, she started at the boots and worked her way up those denim-clad thighs, bypassed the bulge—which was a fairly large package and made her nervous as all hell—and lingered only long enough to admire the brass horseshoe-shaped belt buckle.

  When he shifted, she quickly moved on, imagining what kind of washboard belly a man like Mark McCoy might have underneath his bright red button-down shirt. Making progress, her eyes drifted over those fine-tuned shoulders, cleft chin, prominent nose, and finally settled on his dark brown eyes.

  “Well?” he asked, amused.

  “This is a mistake,” she whispered.

  “I’m calling bullshit,” he said. “After a woman gives a man a good once-over like I just received, there’s no way you can look me square in the eyes and tell me you see errors here.”

  “Gosh, you lack a lot of confidence, don’t you?”

  He smirked. “I’ve got plenty, but since we haven’t known one another long, I’ll keep a few secrets tucked away in my pocket and save them for another time.”

  A man with Mark’s cocksure attitude probably possessed a lot of secrets not to mention surprises, but they weren’t tucked away in pockets. Oh no, mysterious men like Mark kept their classified information stuffed in their pants.

  Mark walked around her, shutting the door behind him. Without time to further ponder sexually explicit notions, Patience strolled toward the elevators alongside Mark.

  “Spenser called and said you might like to join us for a little karaoke. After watching you in the hallway, I’d started to think my brother would spend another night singing the blues.”

  “Ah now, surely he wouldn’t have taken it personally.”

  “Yes, indeed. The first time he invited you, he stood by the door singing his heart out and stretching his neck so he could see the lyrics roll across the prompter,” he teased. “If you’d turned tail and headed back to your place tonight, I would’ve shown up at The Bowery once again empty handed. Then there would’ve been tears in at least one guy’s beer.”

  “Just one?”

  “All right, so maybe two,” he said, his lust-filled eyes taking a first tour.

  Turn about was fair play, she reminded herself.

  “You riding with me?” he asked when they finally reached the lobby.

  “I’ll follow you.”

  “Suit yourself, but I don’t bite.”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” she said. “But I’m not much of a night owl. I probably won’t stay out as late as you and Spenser.”

  Dimples claimed his cheeks. “Famous last promises. Didn’t your momma ever tell you the best times a girl will ever have start after the stroke of midnight?”

  “No,” she stated flatly.

  As a matter of fact, her momma warned her there would be men like the McCoys. And she told her to run like hell.

  Chapter Four

  She didn’t recognize the song, but the vocalist lit up the room and she felt, much as she imagined the other patrons might, totally mesmerized. Spenser McCoy’s talent projected through the microphone, and he possessed an electrifying stage presence.

  The Bowery pulsed with a beat Spenser set. Several folks in the background held up their lighters and acted like teenagers crowded together in a concert hall.

  The women loved the singer, and why wouldn’t they? Myrtle Beach played host city to a slew of men, but Patience doubted any of them came to the beach totally immersed in charm, dripping in hard-core sex appeal with Spenser’s good looks to match.

  Good Lord, Spenser knew how to work his audience. Gripping the microphone, he chose his targets. A young lady with sun-bleached locks twirling down her back sat next to a much older woman with snow white hair. She could’ve been anyone’s grandma. Tonight, she was Spenser’s chosen woman.

  He knelt in front of her, a few feet from the stage, and sang the chorus. “Will you have my love, take my love, and accept my love? Oh baby, will you fall, fall, fall, head over heels for me?”

  Grandma was a goner.

  Mark pointed toward the bar. “Spenser knows the bartenders. We’ll sit over here.”

  She followed him through the crowd. Her eyes darted back to Spenser. The beautiful blonde appeared quite agitated, and Patience understood her frustration. She laughed when she saw Spenser with Granny’s hand clasped in his while singing, “Oh baby, will you drive me crazy, love me crazy, make me crazy…about you.”

  “He’s good,” Patience said loudly enough for Mark to hear her.

  “Yeah, he is, but don’t do anything to stroke his ego. He earns enough praise, believe me.”

  “I’ll bet,” she said, watching as Spenser kissed the older lady’s cheek. He returned to the stage and the audience gave him a standing ovation. Spenser waved and then made his way toward them.

  “You came!” he exclaimed.

  Not yet, she mused. Sing to me like that and I just might. Suddenly, no one else existed in the room except the McCoy brothers. Her mouth dried and she realized why. This was a déjà vu moment.

  Her palms turned clammy. The light-headed sensation made her shake off an unusual euphoric feeling. Enthralled, she blurted out, “You’re amazing.”

  “That’s what she said,” he replied, copping a devilish smile.

  “Grief,” Patience said. “She said jokes? Really?”

  “No, I’m serious here. The old lady said I’m amazing.”

  “Told you not to stroke,” Mark whispered in her ear.

  Rolling his thick tongue over his bottom lip, Spenser said, “Ah now, Mark, come on now, let the pretty lady tell me what’s on her mind.”

  After the arousing way Mark’s hot breath covered her ear and the “she said” joke that never was, God help her if she told them what delicious possibilities she imagined right there in a public bar. The words she wanted spo
ken teetered along the lines of “your place or mine.”

  * * * *

  She closed down the bar with all the wild hellions running loose in Myrtle Beach. The night could’ve gone on forever, and Patience wouldn’t have noticed. The seconds turned into minutes and those minutes quickly turned into hours. Soon it was after midnight and she approached her front door with two magnificent men.

  Seconds later, she stood under the mistletoe in the doorway of her condo. Mark kept eyeing the greenery. Spenser shoved his hands in his pockets like he expected an invitation inside.

  “I had a really nice time, guys,” she said. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  “We did, too,” Spenser replied, nudging Mark.

  Don’t ask to come in. Don’t ask to come in. Don’t ask to come in.

  Mark cleared his throat. “We’re spending Christmas here. Are you?”

  “We already covered this.”

  “You’re right. I asked,” Mark gently reminded. “You didn’t answer.”

  Her lips quivered. This time Spenser eyed the mistletoe and really focused on her mouth.

  Wondering why she hung up mistletoe when she certainly hadn’t counted on meeting someone who’d want her to pucker, Patience said, “I’ll stay until after New Year’s Day.”

  “Makes three of us,” Spenser said, delighted.

  Super, she thought. This might get messy. This could turn dangerous. This situation resembled the very thing she left behind in Asheville, North Carolina.

  “Do you have plans for tomorrow?” Mark asked, turning toward their unit as if he’d walk away once he received her answer.

  “I’ll probably do a little shopping.”

  “Still have a few last minute gifts to pick up?” Mark asked.

  No. “Yes,” she replied.

  “Sounds like fun,” Spenser said. “What time do you want to go?”

  She opened her mouth to say something but when she did, the spirit of Christmas magic must’ve stopped her because she drew a blank. Unable to think of the first reason why she didn’t want the McCoys tagging along, she stood there waiting for one of them to speak.

  She needed to find a logical explanation in all of this, outside of the obvious. She had an apparent and undeniable appetite for sexy, smooth-talking cowboys in expensive snake-skin boots. That was it, the answer to her man woes. The problem must’ve been hereditary. Her mother barely survived the same addiction, for which she never sought a cure.

  “Patience?” Mark snapped his finger in front of her face. “Would you like company tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” she said, forcing enthusiasm. “Why not?”

  “Whew,” Spenser said with an impish smile. “For a minute there, I thought you might turn us down. If you’d denied us, you would’ve became the first woman in the world to ever tell us no.”

  She sighed. “Oh, I can whisper a no and stop an eager man from going anywhere, trust me.”

  Mark leaned in and slid a kiss on her cheek. Pointing up at the mistletoe, he said, “I hope you don’t use the word much.”

  Spenser winked, inched closer, and pointed, too. “I’m not letting you off that easy.”

  He lifted her chin, lowered his lips and whispered. “You have two seconds to say no.”

  “One,” he teased, closing the distance. “Two.” Bam! His lips claimed hers and she shivered instantly. His tongue thrust inside her mouth and gaining momentum with the kiss, with the aggression, he cupped her neck and drew her to him.

  Yes! Yes! Yes!

  She should have said no.

  Chapter Five

  Patience sipped a glass of chardonnay. Preferring a tropical fruit taste, she found one of her favorite Fetzer Vineyard selections when she first entered the condo and carried the entire bottle to the balcony. She sank into the long lounge chair. The calming sounds of the ocean soothed her and, after an exciting night out, she needed to unwind.

  She couldn’t believe she sat on an oceanfront balcony comfortably warm in the middle of December. Suddenly a thought occurred to her. Sliding out of her windbreaker, she moved her hands up and down her arms. Was it really warm or had her body temperature risen to this enticing level of heat that provoked all four seasons to change?

  Nothing would surprise her. Since meeting the McCoys, she’d walked around in a constant state of heightened awareness, searching for them by the pool or looking for them on the beach. She’d even started strolling around the hotel on the chance she’d bump into one or both of them in the elevator or lobby.

  She couldn’t remember when she’d had such a good time. Spenser sang to her. Mark danced with her. Actually, Spenser did, too, if the brief sandwich-hump-and-grind qualified. They drank and laughed until every eye in the place turned toward them. Normally, Patience wouldn’t like the center of attention, but with Mark and Spenser at the core of the party, the pulse behind the energy felt strangely right.

  Her cell phone rang and she snatched it right up, barely noticing Ansley Cartwell displayed on the caller ID. “Tell me about them,” she probed excitedly.

  “What would you like to know?” Patience asked, giggling.

  “Oh, come on, Patience! The suspense is strangling me. I’m facing sudden death if you don’t give me play-by-play action!”

  “Drastic,” she said, pouring another glass of wine. “Merry Christmas to you, too, Miss Cartwell.”

  “Yes,” Ansley said. “Feliz Navidad. Now, talk, woman! Talk!”

  Patience indulgently sipped from her glass. Setting the goblet down, she said, “Remember when I told you I decorated the place for the holidays?”

  “Yes…and…”

  Patience placed the phone down on the glass end table and hit the speaker option. Crossing her legs, she leaned back and watched the waves break. “Well, I placed some mistletoe over the front door and—”

  “Oh my God, you kissed them on the first date?”

  “What are we, twelve now, Ansley?”

  “Funny, I just can’t believe my ears. We’re talking about you here, not me. Okay, I’m ready,” she said rapidly. “Finish your story. So you kissed them.”

  “No silly, they kissed me.”

  Ansley squealed. “At the same time? Oh my God! That’s so fucking sexy!”

  “No, Ansley, I didn’t kiss them at the same time. Good Lord.”

  “Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. “Well, damn, I had a picture in my head, and I was ready to paint the images straight across my mind.”

  “Yeah, me and you both,” she sighed. “After Spenser kissed me, I saw all sorts of fantasies unfold and didn’t even close my eyes to get the best of them, let me tell ya.”

  “Spenser?” she asked. “He’s the biker one, right?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “What about the other one?”

  “He’s hell-hot, too.”

  “Damn.”

  “Don’t get too carried away, Ansley. This isn’t leading anywhere.”

  “Oh yeah, I can see that.”

  “I’m serious, Ansley. I’m not ready for a relationship or even a romp.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “You know why.”

  “Please tell me this isn’t about dickslapper and his little brother. You’re going to have to forget them, honey. Move on!”

  “Oh, I’m over them. Trust me.”

  “Then what’s holding you back?”

  “For starters, I don’t really know them.”

  “So? It’s the holidays. Think of the possibilities. Have them dress up like Santas and you can help them with their packages!”

  “Ha! Aren’t you full of smiles and giggles tonight?” Patience asked, sipping again. A few more minutes of talking to Ansley and she’d gulp the whole bottle.

  “Patience, look, you wanted to get away, forget.”

  “Run,” she corrected.

  “Whatever.” Ansley made a big deal out of an over-exaggerated sigh. “Who says you can’t dash from one bed straight into th
e plush comfort of another?”

  “Ansley, sex with strangers isn’t that easy!”

  “Uh, yeah it pretty much is. And when you come to your senses, you’ll see I’m right. What better gift to unwrap on Christmas morning than two handsome cowboys?”

  * * * *

  Mark shot his brother a knowing smile. Then he pointed toward the sliding glass door leading back inside and away from the balcony. Quietly, they tip-toed into their private unit and stood there for a minute, completely dumbfounded.

  “She can unwrap this cowboy any day of the week and three times on Christmas Eve,” Spenser said, plugging in their Christmas tree lights.

  “Yeah, but you heard her, too. She’s running from a past relationship. She isn’t ready for the likes of us.”

  “Did you miss the part where she further explained the break-up? She parted ways with two guys, not one.”

  Mark grinned. “No, I paid real close attention there. I promise you.” Sitting on the leather sofa, he said, “Damn shame her friends didn’t tell us everything they could when they contacted us through the service.”

  “Wouldn’t have mattered to me either way,” Spenser admitted. “After seeing her picture and those dimples etched in her wide, beautiful smile, I wouldn’t have cared if she had ten kids and about as many ex-husbands. One look and I’m telling you, I took the bait and the hook.”

  “So no regrets after meeting her?”

  “Are you kidding me? After the kiss I received?” Spenser fell against the large cushions behind him, crossing his legs. “Man, I’m telling you what, those soft lips of hers tasted like Christmas if nothing else ever did.”

  “And what flavor is Christmas exactly?” Mark asked, folding his arms over his chest.

  “You’ll have to try out those luscious lips and taste her for yourself. She’s addictive like the rock candy we used to make for the holidays, back when we were kids. Totally addictive and every bit as sweet.”

  Mark grunted. “What I wouldn’t give to suck on a little pebbled candy.”