Chapter 3

Past

“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 want.

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?"

"Yeah," she said with a smile.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly the daring kind."

"Do you want to know what I'd do?"

I shrugged my shoulder, and the long silver chain around my neck moved between my breasts sending a cool shiver down my spine. I was curious. After all, I knew what Alex would do. I knew what Alexandria had done. I wondered exactly what someone else, someone not haunted with a split personality, would do. Then again, Chelsea may not be the one to ask. She had always been more daring than, well, than anyone I'd ever known.

"First," she said, standing and strutting a circle before me. "I wouldn't let his deep, velvet, sexy voice make me all wet and weak in the knees."

"I didn't say that it did. And I never used the word velvet."

"You didn't have to. It's pretty obvious. I mean, I’d recommend going pantyless, but damn girl, the way you fidget when you talk about him, I’d be afraid the material of your dress would give you away."

I raised my chin. "I disagree." I sounded confident, but the memory of the beach towel forced me to face the fact—I was at the very least mildly turned on by this man.

"So you're willing to take off—"

"No! Tonight isn't going that far. My panties or lack thereof won't be a conversation topic."

"No one said anything about conversation topics," she added as she leaned against the far wall, crossed her arms over her chest and stared me up and down. "Face it. You're beautiful, and in that outfit you're stunning. Listen to me. I know you have shit you've never told me. It's none of my business. That shit is Alex's or maybe Alexandria's—I don't know. Tonight, be Charli. Be bold, be fun, and play out your fantasy.

“How often does some hot man walk into your life without any hold on your future? You're leaving for Columbia soon. You don't need this guy. Have fun with him. Hell, use him. Men have been doing it to women forever. This is our fun, no-regret week. You only get one of those in a lifetime."

I sat taller. "You still haven't said what you'd do."

"I'd find out as little as I could about him. The less you know, the less connected you'll be. I'd eat a little, drink a little too much, and I'd explore every position—except missionary—that I've ever known or he was willing to teach me."

I glanced over at the clock. "Well, if I'm really doing this, this shit is about to get real. I’m supposed to be there in less than an hour."

"The presidential suite isn't that far away." Chelsea reached for my hand. "Let's go to the bar and have a pre-mystery-date drink, a liquid boost of courage. My treat."

I wasn't much of a drinker, but if I was really going to go through with this, liquid courage sounded like a great idea. "Your treat?"

I loved Chelsea, but Stanford wasn't her college because she could afford it. Actually, she'd only attended there her freshman year by the grace of scholarships. That’s when we met, paired together by fate. Some of her choices didn't sit well with the administration and her grades wouldn’t allow her to keep her scholarships. After our freshman year, she transferred to a state college. Even though we didn't take classes together, we'd become too close to part ways. We found an apartment together, off campus.

I’d like to think that we’ve helped each other. My determination rubbed off and she worked hard. The fact that she still graduated in four years made me as proud of her as my own achievements did of me. We both accomplished our goal. Her degree just had a different school's name at the top.

While I was the studier, she was the survivor. She knew more about the game of people like Shaun because she did what she needed to do. And even though she was now a college graduate, extra money wasn't one of her luxuries.

"Well," she said with a wink. "I was going to sign the receipt. You did book this room in my name after all."

I stood. "I did. If Alex or Alexandria isn't who I am this week, I didn't want my name on the reservation. I mean, Charli with an i can't be listed on the reservation." I shrugged. “She doesn't have a last name.”

"Oh! I know! We could be sisters! You can share my last name."

As I grabbed my small purse and took one last look at the creation in the mirror, I shrugged. "Our eyes are different colors. Yours are hazel and mine are some weird shade of brown."

Chelsea hugged my shoulder and looked at us in the mirror. With her head close to mine, she said, "Our hair could be the same color. I've changed mine so many times, I forget what it really is. And hazel is close to gold. That's the color I've always used to describe your eyes—golden."

"Okay, sisters it is. And if I'm not back by midnight—"

"Oh no. I'm not sending out the cavalry until tomorrow. Charli with an i has some life to discover. I'm not the type of sister to put her on a time clock. There's no magic pumpkin or glass slipper. Charli will be here all week. The stroke of midnight will have no bearing."