Chapter 6

Six weeks earlier

Chelsea nudged her elbow into my side. "It's time."

"M-Maybe." I hesitated. "Maybe this isn't a good idea."

She smiled her most encouraging smile. "Stop it. I know you can do this."

She was my biggest cheerleader. Through everything—tests, papers, late night studying, and even the occasional boyfriend—Chelsea was always there, telling me I could do it. She was truly the sister I'd never had. I sometimes wondered what it would have been like to have a sister growing up, someone to talk to—about anything. But then, I'd remember what she would have had to live through, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

"I'm still not sure what I'm doing."

She waved to the bartender and leaned closer. "You know those bracelets people used to wear? The ones that said WWJD—what would Jesus do?"

"Yes?" I answered suspiciously, certain that she didn't mean for that to be her advice.

"Well, pretend you're wearing one that says WWCD. Whenever Alex starts to respond or react, stop and think, what would Chelsea do?" She winked. "Charli would do, and then do that."

"I'm not going to sleep—"

"Of course you're not going to sleep. You'll be awake the whole time. Just be sure to come back and tell me everything!"

I shook my head. "What if—?"

"Stop. Stop overthinking this. It's dinner. That's all. We're on our me vacation. Have fun. Next week boring Alex can be back in your head. Let Charli have some fun."

"Boring?"

Chelsea pressed her lips together and scrunched her nose. "I didn't say that aloud, did I?"

Standing, I looked down at Chelsea's high-heeled sandals and smoothed the material of my blue dress. Shrugging I said, "Maybe I'm just getting better at mental telepathy."

"Good. That'll make it easier to know what to do." She touched her temples with the tips of her fingers. “I’ll be in your head all night.”

My heart beat faster with each step toward the doorman's desk.

What if my mystery man didn't think I'd follow through? What if he didn't tell the doorman? I'd look like a complete idiot—that’s what would happen.

By the time I reached the counter, the palms of my hands were moist. Instead of thinking of what-ifs, I tried to concentrate on the click of my shoes against the marble floor and channel my best friend.

"May I help you?" asked the tall man with the same color jacket as all of the resort employees.

Squaring my shoulders and securing the mask of my upbringing, I replied, "Yes, I was told to tell you that my name is Charli."

His dark eyes sparkled. "Yes, Miss Charli. I'm Fredrick, and we’ve been awaiting your arrival."

I swallowed my apprehension. After all, this was good. Now more than Chelsea knew my whereabouts. Fredrick did too. He picked up the telephone and after a few moments said, "Yes sir, I'm escorting Miss Charli to your suite." Next he turned toward me. "Please follow me. I'll take you to the private elevator."

Slipping back into the person raised to believe that staff needed no more than to do their job, I simply nodded. It wasn’t as if I still believed the Kool-Aid my grandmother had fed me, but at that moment my mind was too much awhirl with the possibility of what I might find at the end of the elevator ride. Nervousness and excitement vied with fear and anticipation.

Fredrick led me down a quiet hallway, the only sound that of my heels echoing off the paneled walls. Even though I worked to calm my breathing, as he pushed the button for the elevator, I may have jumped with the ding as the doors opened. This elevator wasn't as large as the ones used by the other guests nor was it glass. Instead, it was lined with the same rich paneling from the hall, and where as the others had panels of multiple buttons, here there were only two. Fredrick pushed PS.

I had the almost unstoppable urge to ask Fredrick about the man I was meeting for dinner. I wanted to ask his name, but my pride wouldn't allow it. After all, who got all dressed up and met someone in the presidential suite if they didn't know whom they were meeting?

Me.

As I realized the answer to my own question, I lifted the corner of my lips. I was really doing this—well, Charli was.

The doors opened, not to a hallway, but to a foyer, large and light. I couldn't help but look around as I stepped onto the white tile. In the center of the room was a large round table with an enormous arrangement of fresh flowers. The sweet aroma saturated the glass room. Through the skylight I noticed the darkening sky. Then my attention went to one of the glass walls. Through it was a spectacular view of the setting sun over the ocean.

"Miss Charli," a woman's voice brought my attention back to present. I turned toward the petite, older woman. Since she wasn’t wearing the resort’s signature navy jacket, I didn't think she worked for the resort.

"Yes, hello," I offered with as much confidence as I could muster.

Her cheeks rose as her brow lengthened. I still didn't know who she was, but I got the distinct impression that she was assessing whether or not I should be allowed any farther into the suite.

"I was told to come here for dinner," I said, afraid that the words emerged as more of a question than a statement.

"Of course." Her expression relaxed. "I believe your arrival is anticipated on the patio. It's such a lovely night. It was requested that dinner be served outside. Let me show you the way."

I breathed a sigh of relief as I returned her smile. Though I'd hoped that someone would mention the name of the man awaiting my arrival, no one did. It was as if everyone knew not to say it in front of me.

I'd tried to recall exactly what he'd looked and sounded like earlier that day. But with each passing hour, the recollections became embellished in my mind. I recalled the sun behind his head now as a radiating glow. His voice, deep and stirring, rolled like thunder in my memory, fluttering my tummy while melting my insides. His chest wasn't just muscular, it was sculpted, and I no longer just remembered the sight of his dark hair and slight facial stubble. Now my skin tingled at the thought of its touch—so real, as if I'd felt it against the most sensitive of my parts.

When I stepped past the woman and exited the glass doors, my breathing hitched.

I hadn't embellished, not really. With the orange glow of the setting sun sending prisms dancing off the waves below, the man casually leaning against the rail was everything I'd imagined and more. Despite the ocean breeze, his casual stance, the way one hand lingered in the pocket of his pants while the other held tightly to a tall fluted glass of light-colored liquid, filled me with warmth.

I was glad that Chelsea had talked me into wearing a dress and that I'd insisted on wearing panties. As he righted himself, the light gray suit coat he wore moved effortlessly, accentuating his shoulders and forming a V to his trim waist. If I'd thought he was handsome in his swim trunks, he was even better in a silk suit. The white shirt he wore was unbuttoned at the neck and his strong jaw was covered with just a hint of stubble. Whoever this man was, he wore the combination of casual and class with ease.

I remained still as his grin grew and he scanned me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Just like earlier at the pool, the gaze of his light blue eyes burned my skin, sending a rush of heat and leaving goose bumps in its wake. I found myself lost in the paleness of his eyes. Like pools of liquid, I imagined drowning in their depths, and then they settled on mine.

"Welcome, Charli with an i. I'm very glad you accepted my invitation." Flutters like butterfly wings filled my tummy as I searched the horizon for clouds of an impending storm. There were none. It was him. His voice did roll like the low rumble of thunder.

I continued to remind myself to do as Chelsea would do. With all the issues that girl had in her life, lack of confidence was never one of them. As he closed the distance between us, I stood as tall and resolute as I could, diligently fighting the urge to look away.

When we were merely inches apart, I replied, "It wouldn't be very nice of me to refuse my husband." My cheeks flushed at the sound of my own words. Although I hadn't meant them the way they sounded, I saw in his micro-expression that he heard the alternative meaning.

"That's good to know," he said with a grin.

Damn, maybe I am channeling Chelsea.

I closed my lips to stop the explanation from spilling out while trying to maintain my air of composure. Looking past his handsome face, I nodded toward the ocean, as the sun sunk closer to the horizon.

"This is an absolutely stunning view."

"Yes, Charli. I couldn't agree more."

I turned back to him, but his eyes weren't on the setting sun. They were on me.

"I wondered if you could be as beautiful as you were this morning, wearing more than you had at the pool." He cocked his head to the side. "I no longer need to wonder."

Blood filled my cheeks, but before I could respond, the woman who'd met me at the elevator came out onto the patio pushing a cart. When I turned her direction, she was taking the cart toward a small table with two chairs. It was off to the side, in an area with a glass partition that blocked the sea's breeze. The small table was covered in white linen and in the center was a flickering flame within a glass globe.

"Would you like to have a seat?" he asked, reaching for my elbow and leading me toward the table.

I almost jumped at the touch of his warm skin against mine. Electricity like I'd never felt surged through my veins, setting off detonations at each synapse. My eyes snapped to his, and for just a moment, I believed he felt the same thing, but just as quickly, his expression returned to its casual, confident demeanor.

"Yes," I said, trying also to ignore the chemistry that threatened to knock me off my feet. "Thank you. You didn't need to go to all this trouble."

He laughed. "It wasn't me. It was all Mrs. Witt. She was happy when she learned that I wasn't dining alone."

My knees bent as he helped me with my chair. I turned toward Mrs. Witt. "Thank you. It's lovely."

"I can't take credit for the cooking. It all came from the dining room. However, I did choose the menu," she said confidently. "I do hope you enjoy seafood."

"I do."

My mystery man began to pour a light-colored wine into my glass. It was then I noticed the bucket with ice beside the table and the private pool on the other side of the partition.

"It's a chardonnay." He lowered his voice. "I know we're in California, but I'm partial to this label. It's from the Burgundy region of France. Just don't tell anyone I'm not supporting local wineries."

"I promise," I said, leaning forward. "Your secret is safe with me."

I saw his gaze lower toward my breasts. But instead of calling him out or covering myself, I remembered my invisible bracelet and sat tall, leaving the V of my dress in full view. I'd never been a fan of my breasts. For most of my teenage years they didn't exist. And then one day, my B-cups overflowed. I truly don't know what happened—genetics or hormones. Whatever it was, my B's became D's. I didn't know what to do with them and complained that they made me look heavy. Again, it was Chelsea who told me to embrace them. She promised that the doors my education and intelligence didn't open would be flung open by my girls standing proudly at attention on my chest.

I lifted the glass and took a sip of the wine. The flavor was crisper than other chardonnays I'd had. "I like it," I exclaimed. "It's crisp, not as sweet as others."

His pale eyes relaxed. "I knew my wife would have a discerning palate, or is it your tongue?"

While I struggled with the appropriate response, Mrs. Witt came back, filling the silence and leaving me with my mystery man's suggestive smile. She placed a tray of cheese, olives, and crackers on the table and just as quickly disappeared, leaving us alone.

"Thank you, again," I said, "for saving me from Max."

"So that's what he's calling himself this week."

I motioned around the patio. "Is this what you do? You save women from the resort leeches and lure them to your lair?"

"My lair? Am I Batman?"

"Are you? I don't know."

He smirked. "If only I could make a living at doing just that, but alas, no. You're my first rescue."

I stopped my reach for a piece of cheese and looked back up at him. "Your first?"

"My first rescue,” he clarified. “Hardly my first."

"Why?"

He lifted his glass toward me in a toast. After I lifted mine, he said, "To you, Charli with an i, and to learning more about you."

After our glasses clinked and we both took a sip, I asked the question that I'd been dying to know ever since our morning encounter. "You seem to have a clear advantage. You know my name, but I've yet to learn yours."

"Do I?"

"Do you what?"

"Do I have an advantage?” He leaned closer. “Do I know your name? You see, I had the resort's reservations scoured. I wanted to send a gift to your room and confirm our dinner, yet Charli was nowhere to be found."

I took a deep breath. "Well, I'm here with my sister. I guess my name isn't on the reservation."

"Your sister?"

"Yes, and you? If I were to have the reservations scoured?"

The sun had now fully set, falling below the water and the darkening sky was beginning to fill with stars, especially over the water.

"Would you believe, Batman?" When I didn't respond, he said, "Bruce Wayne?"

Though I pursed my lips, I felt the twinkle in my eyes.

"Since I suppose you could have the reservations scoured, you'd have the advantage of being able to zero in on this suite."

Why hadn't I thought of that?

"But I'll save you the trouble." He lifted his right hand over the table. As I reached to take it, he turned mine and lightly brushed his lips over my knuckles filling me again with warmth. "Let me introduce myself. Charli, I'm Nox."

"Knox?" I repeated his name, more like a question. "Like Fort Knox?"

"In some ways, but without the K. I do however have a thing for locks and security."

Retrieving my hand and allowing his name to roll through the corridors of my mind, a smile graced my lips. His name was perfect—unique and powerful—like the man seated across from me.

He went on, "Tell me something about you. How did your parents come up with the name Charli. Surely they knew what a beautiful girl they'd had."

I shrugged. "If you're asking if they wanted a boy, I can answer unequivocally yes. However, Charli is short for Charles, my grandfather’s name."

Nox grinned. "Well, the name Charli is as lovely as you."

Mrs. Witt returned with salads and our conversation waned. It wasn't awkward silence, but comforting in a way. We knew very little about one another, but what little we knew surrounded us like the glass partition, protecting us from whatever lurked beyond.

"Nox, what do you do?" I smirked. "Besides rescuing women? Oh, and wearing a cape?"

"Like I said, you're my first rescue, and I reserve my cape for at least the third date."

So this is a date.

"I run businesses," he said between bites.

"Businesses?" Maybe the presidential suite wasn't indicative of his wealth. Maybe he was there on the company's money.

"Yes. It's really not that exciting. I travel a lot. That's how I knew that Max and his friend were up to no good. I've stayed in Del Mar on numerous occasions."

"I'd like to think that I would've seen through him, but I still appreciate your rescue."

"I'm sure you would have. Maybe I stepped in for selfish reasons?"

“Selfish?”

“Well, yes. I enjoy having you indebted to me.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Indebted? Tell me, Nox, what else do you enjoy?”

The glint in his eyes spoke volumes, but instead of answering, he asked, "Was that your sister? The blonde who went off with Max's friend?"

"Yes, and believe it or not, he tried to get her to pay for his drink."

Nox's brow arched in triumph.

"Yes," I admitted. "You were obviously right. However, she did see through him."

"Then perhaps my intervention was unnecessary."

I shrugged. "If you hadn't rescued me, I wouldn't be here right now."

It was Nox's turn to shrug. "I assure you, that even before Max’s clumsy attempt to play you, you had my attention this morning. That doesn't happen often. I also assure you, if I wanted you to be here, with or without my intervention, you would be."

"Only if you broke that rule about your cape,” I said, trying for some levity.

"No,” he answered, with all seriousness. “I don't break rules, and I don't appreciate it when others do either."

I was afraid to look down, fearful that my increased heart rate was made visible by the bouncing of the silver chain between my breasts. "Why, Nox, you seem rather confident of yourself."

"Yes, Charli, I am."

I reached for my wine and worked to steady my pulse. I shouldn't be here. Nox was the type of man I purposely avoided at Stanford. The campus was full of them: strong secure men, men who knew what they wanted and took it. There was something in their demeanor that frightened me. It wasn't their need for power or control. I had that too. In the right situation I was confident and driven. No. The reason I avoided them was because of what was happening to me on the patio of the presidential suite of the Del Mar. With each of Nox's words or phrases, my insides tightened to the point of pain.

Stupidly, the pain itself didn't frighten me. What scared me was that an undeniable part of me liked it. It was the part of me I'd suppressed as Alex. The energy Nox radiated electrified me, bringing to life a forbidden desire that I didn't want to acknowledge.

Successful women stood on courthouse steps and spoke with poise and determination. They studied hard, worked tirelessly, and made a name for themselves. Alex Collins didn't need a Mrs. in front of her name or a man standing beside her. She had a future built on her own blood, sweat, and tears.

She shouldn't be a woman who melted at the sound of a deep voice. A successful woman didn't go to dinner with a stranger just because he told her to. Nor did they dampen their panties at the mere suggestion of what else he may tell her to do.

Panic boiled deep inside of me, erasing Nox's words. For a moment I was a voyeur watching the scene as a silent movie. With the faint lighting highlighting the railing, the illumination of the pool, and the glow of the candle, I saw the movement of his lush full lips, but I couldn't hear the words. My attention was focused on the small shadows that chased across his high cheekbones and in the hollows of his eyes.

Nox reached across the table as my name echoed through the salty air.

“Charli? Charli?” The name was spoken each time louder than the one before. "Are you feeling ill?"

"What?" I shook my head. Perspiration dripped between my breasts as a chill settled over me. "I-I'm sorry. I don't know..." I didn't know how to finish the sentence. Four years in one of the most acclaimed colleges and suddenly I was inarticulate.

"Give me your hand."

Mindlessly, I obeyed.

"Let's go inside. Maybe it's the chill."

I stood, allowing Nox to guide me back into the suite. With only the slight pressure of his large hand in the small of my back I became his puppet.

"B-But our dinner?"

"Don't worry. Mrs. Witt will bring it inside. If you're feeling up to it, we can finish it in here."

Hugging my midsection and calming the thoughts in my head, I nodded.

Once we were inside, Nox removed his suit coat and placed it over my shoulders. The intoxicating scent of cologne filled my senses. I wondered how I hadn't noticed it outside. It must have been the breeze. With the soft satin covering my shoulders, I was enveloped in a woodsy scented cloud. Nox led me to a sofa near the windows while Mrs. Witt set our dinner on a dining room table.

His blue eyes swirled with gray and navy, like the clouds to his rumbling voice. "What happened?"

I lowered my chin, unable to answer, not because I couldn't speak, but because I didn't know.

His grin returned, if only tentatively. "Your coloring is better. How do you feel?"

I nodded. "Better. I really don't know what happened. I-I don't want to admit that I'm nervous."

Nox's confident tone was back. "Nervous? Surely, Charli, you're accustomed to the attentions of men."

I shrugged. "I-I'm not." I looked up at his scrutinizing stare. "I mean, it's not like this is my first either. It's that I've been busy with school and, well, I haven't dated in awhile."

"School?"

"Yes, I recently graduated."

"Tell me that you mean from college," he demanded.

I couldn't help the smile. Did I look that young? "Yes. I promise I'm of legal consent."

"I didn't doubt that." His tone rose and he squeezed my knee. "Now, what it is that you're willing to consent to…that’s what has piqued my interest."

"Nox, this week is supposed to be my—well, our, my and Chelsea’s—discover life week. Discover and enjoy but take no souvenirs. I have a lot happening in the future."

"Charli, I may have called you my wife at the pool, but rest assured, that's not what I'm looking for. Simply put, I find you attractive—striking really. You're well-spoken and witty. I like that. Believe me, when I decide a woman is mine, I hold on tight. But if we set the ground rules of going into this next week with no expectations for more, I can do that."

I thought about his proposal as we moved to the table. Though the seared shrimp smelled delicious, I moved it around my plate more than I ate.

"Again with the rules?"

His forehead wrinkled. "Do you have a problem with following rules?"

"As long as they're plainly stated, I suppose not." Truthfully, I was too good at it. That was one of the things Chelsea has tried over the years to rectify. Live, be spontaneous, she'd say. "Take college for example..." I tried to steer the conversation away from the obvious.

We talked about my major. At first I told him it was quantum physics. After all, he'd said I was well-spoken. However, it didn't take long before I admitted the truth. I'd majored in English with a dual minor in business and political science.

"Those future plans don't include law school, do they?"

"Nox, I-I..."

"Yes, Charli, seeing as I still don't know your last name, I'm going to assume that discovering life means some questions are off-limits. I can follow rules too, but I prefer to make them."

I smiled. "Do you have a last name?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Touché."

With our meals as done as they were to be, Nox lifted up a new bottle of wine. "Shall we toast to a week of first names?"

I offered my glass. "I'd like that."

His brow twitched. "I’ll add to that, a week of finding out what else you like and the boundaries to your limits."

I almost choked on my wine as he added that final statement, but it was too late. As the crisp liquid flowed, I drank to his exploration of my limits.

"Are you up for going back outside? The view is why I stay here."

I shifted to stand. The lighting within the suite was much brighter than what we'd had on the patio. With his drink in his right hand, he offered me his left, and I saw it—my limit.

Suddenly the handsome, powerful man in front of me was no better than every other man, no better than Alton Fitzgerald and all of his business trips.

My neck straightened. "I've changed my mind."

"What?" Nox asked, visibly surprised.

I pulled my eyes from his left hand. "I forgot. I promised Chelsea that I'd be back to our room tonight. This week is about us. It really isn't fair of me to leave her alone."

"I saw your sister. I doubt she's alone."

Though Nox tried again for my hand, I pulled it away, busy with removing his jacket from my shoulders. Shoving what undoubtedly was a very expensive suit coat his direction, I reached for my handbag.

"Goodbye, Nox. It was nice to meet you. I'm sorry, but I do know my limits and I've already, albeit unknowingly, broken a hard one." I hurried toward the elevator. "Please don't attempt to contact me."

As the elevator doors opened, I turned to see not only Nox's puzzled expression but also Mrs. Witt's. With my lips pressed together in disgust, not only at them, but also at myself, I stepped into the elevator and waited for the door to shut. When it did, I exhaled and tried to comprehend how either of them would assume that I'd be comfortable with this circumstance.

I didn't care how good looking or charismatic Mr. Nox—no last name—was. I didn't see married men. The tan line on his fourth finger was too prominent to be anything but recent.