Betrayal, Page 2

  Who am I?

  Maybe for one week, I could live without the pressures of my old or new life. Maybe I could experience life as others did—as Chelsea did—completely untethered from the monsters of my past or the aspirations of my future. Alexandria Charles Montague Collins had a perfect façade to maintain. Alex Collins had a future and a career to build. For one week, Charli—no last name—wanted to see what life could be like without a past or a future.

  “LOOK… NO, DON’T,” Chelsea whispered as she covered her lips with the edge of a fashion magazine. Her sunglass-covered eyes scanned the deck around the large pool.

  “How can I look and not look?” I asked playfully between sips of my strawberry-mango slushy.

  “Do you see those guys over there?”

  “You told me not to look,” I reminded her. Yet I had seen them. It was hard—no impossible—not to look. The patrons of the exclusive resort were beautiful. After all, the resort catered to the wealthy, and those people spent a lot of money to maintain their perfection.

  “Just take a quick look.”

  As I turned my head, I caught the stare of a man about our age. He was tan and blond and looking our direction, not even pretending to be looking elsewhere. With his sunglasses down, he peered over the frames, lifted his brows, and smiled. His closed-lip grin was both cocky and confident. My first instinct was to look down at my Kindle, but as pink filled my cheeks I remembered my mission. This was my week to live, to do what Alex wouldn’t and Alexandria couldn’t.

  Lowering my sunglasses, I returned his grin.

  “Oh shit,” I whispered. “He’s coming over here.”

  Nearly dropping her magazine, Chelsea sat taller in her lounge chair. “I said look, not invite him over.”

  I didn’t have time to reply before Mr. Tanned Surfer Dude and his equally attractive friend were at the foot of our chaise lounges.

  “Hey, we haven’t seen you two around here before,” Mr. Surfer Dude said.

  “We got in last night,” Chelsea replied.

  Guy number two extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Shaun and this is my nosy friend, Max.”

  “I’m Chelsea and this…” She looked my way. “…is Charli.”

  Max lifted his brow. “You don’t look like any Charlie I’ve ever met.”

  “It’s Charli with an i.”

  He sat on the end of my chair. “Well, Charli with an i, would you like a drink or something?”

  I turned toward my half-filled glass of slushy. “I’m good, thank you. Besides, it’s not even noon. Isn’t that a little early for drinks?”

  Shaun laughed. “We’re on vacation, and if you haven’t heard, it’s always five o’clock somewhere.”

  Chelsea swung her legs off the chair and offered her hand to Shaun. “I have heard that, and I’d love a drink.”

  I tried to maintain my smile as Max settled onto Chelsea’s recently vacated seat. I loved Chelsea, but playing the field, and playing men for drinks and whatever else, was her specialty. Why hadn’t I realized that bringing her to an exclusive resort would be like taking a child to a candy store?

  “We are having a nice time. Thanks for asking,” Max said with a grin.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I was just thinking about my friend. As you can see, she has a hard time making new friends.”

  He cocked his head to the side, his tanned torso absorbing the sunshine, and his long legs stretched out on the lounge chair. “I bet you don’t have any trouble making friends either.”

  “I guess that only leaves one of us.”

  His hand flew to his chest. “You wound me! First you don’t listen to a word I’m saying, and then you send me back to second grade.”

  “Second grade?”

  “You know, when I did have trouble making friends.”

  I shook my head. “I doubt you ever had trouble. The thing is that this week is supposed to be about my friend and me. We’ll be going different directions soon. I thought she might, I don’t know, hang around with me for more than breakfast.”

  “Where are you going? Or is it her?”

  “It’s both of us. Tell me about you.”

  “Oh,” Max said, “I get it. We’re being secretive. My guess is there’s a boyfriend…” He glanced at my hand. “…no ring. So it can’t be a fiancé. But there’s someone back wherever home is.”

  “Guess again.”

  “You’re an aspiring actress, and this is the week before you do a big shoot.”

  I laughed. “Two strikes. One more and you’re—”

  “Out.”

  Max and I turned to the deep voice coming from beside Max’s chair. With the sun shining directly behind him, the source of the baritone command was partially hidden by shadows. But as my gaze lingered, allowing my eyes to adjust, my breathing hitched. The man beside us was tall and tan, with broad shoulders that cast a shadow over both Max’s and my legs. He wasn’t as young as Max, but then again, he wasn’t old. The longer we sat in stunned silence, the more visible the pulsating vein in his neck became. This man was obviously upset with Max.

  When we didn’t speak, he repeated, “You’re out.”

  “Excuse me?” Max asked. “Who the hell are you?”

  I lowered my glasses and continued to appreciate one of the most perfect specimens of man I’d ever seen. Small droplets of water hung from his short dark hair and glistened against the cobalt blue sky. More evidence of his recent swim coated his defined abs and his wet swim trunks clung to his thick thighs…

  Everything about this man screamed confidence. Not the cocky kind I’d seen in Max. No, this man wasn’t a college kid who specialized in picking up girls. This man dominated every situation. He was a man who knew what he wanted and took it.

  Moving my gaze back upward, I sucked in a deep breath at the most stunning light blue eyes I’d ever seen. As if summoned by my gasp, those eyes moved from Max and unashamedly scanned me from my auburn hair and floppy hat to my brightly painted toes. The sear of his gaze peppered my skin with goose bumps and pebbled my nipples as it lingered on everything in between.

  Noticing my visible reaction, the side of his scowl moved upward to a lopsided grin. And then he once again turned back to Max and his threatening yet protective tone returned.

  “I’m her husband.”

  Though I should have argued, I was too intrigued to interrupt.

  “That person you mentioned…” he paused for effect and then went on, “is me and I’m not somewhere else. I’m here. Leave my wife alone or I’ll have you thrown out.”

  Words came to my mind, ones that could both confirm or negate the charade he was playing, but something in this man’s demeanor held me mute on my chaise while simultaneously lifting me above the clouds. He obviously didn’t need my help to be convincing. Besides, this week was supposed to be about exploring life and the real me. In that instant, I knew that I didn’t want to do that with Max, but if given the opportunity to live out my fantasies, I was confident that the man eclipsing the sun would be perfect for the job.

  Shaking his head and lifting his hands in surrender, Max stood. His silhouette dwarfed by that of my husband’s. My insides tingled, wondering what else about this mystery man would outshine the retreating frat boy.

  “Bye, Charli with an i,” Max said, adding, “Maybe you should wear your rings?”

  “Yes, Charli,” the deep voice scolded, “don’t tell me you’ve misplaced them again.”

  “No,” I replied with a smirk, making my decision to play out this game. “I’m most certain they’re right where I left them.”

  “SHALL WE GO check the room?” the mystery man asked, his deep voice sending more chills to my sun-kissed skin as he extended his hand.

  Although the desire to take his hand and look for my nonexistent rings was growing, the part of me that I was trying to suppress came to the surface, and I shook my head. When I looked up to the way his gaze narrowed at my refusal, my heart clenched. “Why don’t you have a seat…?” I
pointed to the chair Chelsea and Max had both vacated. “…dear? I’m sure they’re in the safe. I put them there last night.” My witty response floated away with the rush of the nearby surf.

  What is he thinking? Is he questioning me or admonishing me with those eyes?

  Holding my breath, I hid behind my painted smile and shifted slightly in my chair, suddenly very aware of the coarseness of the beach towel below the thin material of my bathing suit. His silent glare continued as I caught the back of Max’s blond head in my peripheral vision. I watched as Max approached a buxom blonde. Within seconds he was seated beside her in the pool bar. I shook my head slightly, thinking how he obviously wasn’t plagued by second-grade insecurities.

  Before I could divert my gaze, Mr. Deep Voice followed my line of sight. “If you’d rather be graced with his presence, I could go tell him that we have an open marriage.”

  “What?” I asked, turning back toward him, my mouth agape.

  “My only condition,” he added with a grin, “is that I get to watch.”

  Crossing my arms over my too-exposed breasts, I said, “Excuse me? Who the hell—?”

  The vein in his neck jumped to life as he leaned closer. “No. The appropriate reply to what I just did would be to thank me for saving you from that leech.”

  I opened my eyes wide before moving my sunglasses back up and laying my head upon the chair. “Thank you,” I mimicked in my most snobbishly dismissive voice.

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

  His shoulders stiffened. “No, Charli, with an i. Apparently I mistook you for someone who wouldn’t want to be taken by one of the club whores. You see Mike, or Max, or whatever he’s calling himself today, makes his way by seducing new arrivals. He and his friend pick out the new women who they believe will shower them with food, drinks, and whatever else. I’ve watched him work the pool decks and clubs off and on for a while now. You were about to be taken.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was his condescending tone or arrogance at believing I would have been taken, but whatever it was, I was done. Straightening my neck, I said, “Well, sir, you’ve done your good deed for the day. Since I’m obviously not smart enough to spot a swindler, I better avoid all possible accomplices.” I reached for my slushy. “You may go.”

  I lowered my eyes to the now melted drink and began to suck. With each slurp of cool strawberry and mango over my tongue, I waited for his shadow to move and my legs to once again be bathed in sunlight. By the time I reached the bottom of the glass, my heart was pounding in my chest, and my head was fighting a brain freeze, but the shadow hadn’t disappeared. It’d gotten bigger as he inched closer.

  Whipping my face toward his, I asked, “May I help you? Would you like a tip or something for your kindness?”

  The annoyance I’d seen earlier was gone. The light eyes, now merely inches from my own, danced with amusement. I wasn’t sure which emotion made me more uneasy.

  “Something.” The word rolled from his lips, deep and full of promise.

  I let out an exasperated sigh. “What?”

  “You asked if I wanted a tip or something. I want something. I want dinner, tonight. Eight o’clock in the presidential suite. Don’t worry, Charli with an i, I’ll take care of the tip.”

  “B-But—”

  “Tell the doorman your name. He’ll take you up the private elevator.”

  I stared incredulously, unsure what to say.

  Is this guy for real? Or is this my fantasy? Charli’s fantasy?

  I lifted my chin. “What if you’re no better than Max?”

  One side of his full sensual lips quirked upward, diverting my gaze away from his chiseled jaw, the one covered with just enough beard growth to be abrasive to sensitive skin. My nipples hardened at the thought.

  “I guarantee,” he said, “I’m much better than Max.”

  Just then he turned and walked away, leaving me with a view of long, tanned legs, a tight ass covered with swim trunks, a trim waist, and broad shoulders. He wasn’t overly muscular, but definitely fit. Though older than Max and Shaun, I couldn’t gauge his age. By the sound of confidence in his tone and judging by our surroundings, he was successful. Hell, he’d told me to have dinner with him in the presidential suite. I knew how much our two-bedroom suite cost for a week. The presidential suite definitely required money.

  As I continued to sit, I contemplated what had just happened or what would happen.

  Am I even considering going to dinner with him in the presidential suite?

  “Who was that?” Chelsea asked as she slid back into her chair, an icy pink drink in her hand.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? Weren’t you talking to him?”

  “Yes,” I answered, unsure why I hadn’t asked his name or why he hadn’t offered.

  “Max whispered something to Shaun, and he asked if he was your husband.”

  I started laughing. “Well, actually, he’s not mine. He’s Charli’s.”

  “What?” she asked, turning toward me with a big smile. “Wow! Charli moves fast! I think it’s the i. Women with names that end in i get to have all the fun.”

  “What happened with Shaun? Why aren’t you two over there whispering sickening things to one another?”

  Chelsea pursed her lips together. “He ordered our drinks and then asked for our room number. The creep was going to charge them to me!”

  I smirked. Maybe the things Mr. Deep Voice said were true. “Oh Chelsea, tell me you didn’t give it to him. I don’t want him or Max showing up at our door.”

  “No.” She laughed. “I’ve been the player too many times to be played. I gave him a sob story about my being here with my boyfriend. I said he was up in the room sleeping off too many drinks from last night, and if he saw the drinks on our tab I’d be in big trouble.” She leaned closer. “I made him out to be a real badass. Shaun felt sorry for me and bought the drinks.”

  “Not sorry enough to stick around?”

  “No! I think I scared him off. My imaginary boyfriend was going to kick his ass.”

  “Good riddance!”

  “Yeah. Remember,” Chelsea said, “this week is about us. I’m sorry I left you. From now on it’s just us.”

  “Well, about that…” As I filled Chelsea in on what happened in her absence, she trembled with excitement.

  “Oh my God! Alex—I mean, Charli—that stuff just doesn’t happen to you. I mean, in all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never gone out on a date until you’ve had the prospective guy fill out a ten-page résumé.”

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s not true.”

  “No. It’s not, but seriously, I saw that guy over here. I couldn’t see him that well because I was a little busy getting my drink paid for, but the parts I saw were hot! He’s tall and buff. I’m sure he works out.”

  “The sun was in my eyes. I’m really not sure.” I tried to sound unimpressed. “He could be hideous without the glare.”

  “Right. I’m sure. That’s why you agreed to go to dinner with him, and not even in a public place but in the presidential suite!”

  My stomach twisted. “Oh shit. That wasn’t smart. I-I don’t think I should go. And technically, I didn’t agree. I didn’t answer.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t even know his name. How can I go to the presidential suite if I don’t even know who I’m going to see?”

  “You said that he told you what to do… he said to say your name to the doorman.”

  I nodded as the twisting in my stomach moved lower. He had. He’d told me what to do. I hated to admit that it excited me more than scared me. I shouldn’t like that. Alexandria knew that and so did Alex. That was why Alex was always careful about whom she dated. They were all nice men or boys, and all respected Alex as a classmate and friend. None of them would have told her where to be. They would have asked. That’s what women were supposed to w
ant.

  Why then are my insides melting at the thought of Mr. Deep Voice?

  “Who do you think he is?” Chelsea asked.

  I lifted my shoulders. “I have no idea, but I think I want to find out.”

  She clapped her hands. “Oh! I love Alex, but I think that maybe even I could learn a thing or two from Charli.”

  “With an i,” I added with a grin.

  “DON’T LET ON that you’re nervous,” Chelsea said as she spun me around for the hundredth time.

  “I’m not nervous. You’re making me dizzy.” With each turn, the skirt of the simple yet elegant blue dress billowed as it flowed from the halter bodice. The high, wide sash accentuated my waist while the bodice dipped between my breasts. It showed enough cleavage to be sexy but not enough to be slutty. That was what Chelsea said. I pulled the material together hoping she was right.

  “He saw you in a bikini. You’re not showing any more in this dress. Besides, it still leaves something to the imagination.”

  As Chelsea continued to play with my long auburn hair, the style in the mirror began to grow on me. “I don’t usually wear my hair up.”

  “And you don’t usually meet perfect strangers for dinner and dessert,” she added, allowing her voice to emphasize the last word.

  I shook my head. “No dessert. Charli may be spending this week discovering life, but she’s not spending it on her back.”

  “No one said you had to be on your back. Come on, there are a lot better positions than that!”

  I playfully hit her shoulder. “You know what I mean. Alex still has standards.”

  “But this week Charli is taking over.” She backed me toward the bed in my room. As I sat, Chelsea sat beside me and squeezed my hands. “I’m not saying to go against your moral code, but come on and live a little. Have some fun. Be daring.”

  “Be you?”