Dare To Be Wild (13 page)

“I'll tell you what, there is a small hotel in Pointe Milou called the Christopher,” Mitchell said. “It's about fifteen minutes from here. Why don't we arrange right now to meet on Friday at five-thirty.”

“For dinner? Isn't that a bit early?”

“Not if you want to see the sunset, which I promise you, you do.”

Livia tried to keep a straight face as her brain raced. She didn't want to tell him that she'd spent the past few evenings watching the sun go down in the very spot he was speaking of. More important
than that were her questions. Did he know she was staying there or was this another coincidence, a sign from the universe that she and Mitchell were in the right place at the right time for a racy reason? “Okay, I'll find it,” she told him.

“And I'll find you.”

“You're very sure of yourself, Mitchell,” Livia said, giving him a small grin of her own.

“Only when I see something I want. It's a nasty habit I picked up from childhood.”

Livia smiled, happy to have someone flirting with her after so long. “My cab's here,” she said, acknowledging the gesturing attendant. “Thanks again, Mitchell.”

Livia picked up all of her belongings and stood up to head for the taxi. Putting weight on her ankle sent a searing pain shooting up her leg and radiating through her body. Without a word, Mitchell gathered Livi up again into his arms, and carried her across the sand. Not quite sure what to do with her arms, Livia wrapped them loosely around his neck, lightly resting them on his sturdy, muscular shoulders. This time, Livi was uncomfortably aware that the only thing between her naked, and his half-naked body was a thin cotton sarong. It confused her that before he'd shown up, she was feeling risqué and ready to find a stranger and fuck him. But now, face-to-face with a real possibility, her shy old ways were reemerging.

Dagnabit!
Livia thought as Mitchell helped her into the cab,
Love may be complicated, but damn if lust isn't just as confusing.

F
riday, promptly at 5:15, Livia left her suite and headed down to the lobby of the Christopher Hotel. Nestled into Pointe Milou, on the quiet northeast side of St. Bart's, it was an intimate and sensual hideaway, a perfect spot for whatever this vacation brought. Surrounded by both luxurious, fragrant gardens and the romantic lull of the nearby surf, it was hard not to be seduced into wanting to experience pleasure in this paradise.

Did Mitchell know this, too? Is that why he'd picked this as their rendezvous spot?

She wandered into the gift store, which provided a perfect view of the lobby comings and goings. She was to meet Mitchell at five-thirty, but didn't want to risk getting caught coming down from her room. Besides, this spot gave her the perfect opportunity to catch a first glance and, if necessary, adjust her assessment of the man, who on the Saline Beach had become her hero. But between the sun, stinging pain, and embarrassing nudity, Livia didn't quite trust her judgment. What if he was nothing like she remembered?

Livia passed a tanned gentleman of European decent, who stopped in his tracks to shower her with an appreciative smile.

“De toute beauté.”

Livia wasn't quite sure, but it sounded like he'd called her beautiful in French. His compliment made her decision to wear the slinky orange sundress that highlighted her strengths and camouflaged her weaknesses, the right choice. She was especially happy she'd put
on the stiletto sandals Aleesa had forced her to buy and bring. Always tall, Livi never understood the need for wearing heels. At this moment, she totally recognized their appeal. The sex was in the heel.

“Go Livi; go Livi,”
she sang under her breath, enjoying the fact that another man in the shop was checking her out as she inspected the swimsuits near the front window. She had to admit that she was really enjoying this mini whirl of attention.

Ten minutes later, Livia's initial assessment was solidified and bolstered when a cool breeze came through the lobby doors in the person of Mitchell the Marvelous. He was dressed in well-fitting tan slacks and a collarless, white linen shirt. His gorgeous eyes were hidden by the golden lenses of aviator sunglasses, but his smile, framed by succulent lips bearing just the slightest sheen of ChapStick, was on public display.

Livi watched with admiring eyes as he strode further into the lobby looking for her. A metallic flash of gold glinted from his wrist as he lifted his arm to remove his sunglasses. Mitchell was the epitome of superman, supermodel, masculine chic.

Her vagina tweeted in agreement.

“Game on, Quincy. Game on,” Livia murmured to herself as she stepped out of the gift shop and into the lobby so he could see her. In the wash of the lobby's white décor, her pumpkin-colored halter sundress was an immediate beacon.

Livia watched with silent thrill as Mitchell stopped a couch length away, and let his eyes take her in. He'd obviously left his emotion filter with his boys, as his expressions translated every positive thought racing through his head. Mitchell started at the top of her sexy mass of unruly golden curls, loving the way they blended so well with her honey-tanned face. She saw his eyes pause at the round tops of her spectacular breasts while his lips puckered slightly, allowing a nearly undetectable exhale of excited breath.
Moments later, they were on the move again, taking in the nip of her waist, the flair of her hips and the length and curves of her toned and tanned legs. Approval was etched all over his face.

In Mitchell's mind, he'd hit the cougar jackpot! Guessing her to be about six to eight years older than him, Quincy, on the surface, looked like a beautiful, classy woman. While her appearance definitely did not read conservative, neither did it reek of wild woman. But it was obvious that there was a rip tide bubbling under her cool and sophisticated exterior. Any woman who would vacation and visit a nude beach alone, sporting a purse full of condoms, no less, was looking for the kind of action he was ready and able to provide. Not to mention that crazy-ass sexual wish list of hers that had fallen out of her bag. He hadn't intended to invade her privacy, but when a document entitled, Fuck-It List, belonging to a fine and naked sister, falls open, any red-blooded man with a working dick is going to check it out. He'd only gotten a quick glance, but it was enough to confirm that Quincy was obviously a freak on the make. You had to love that in a woman.

“Quincy, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you. You look great yourself.”

“How's your ankle?” Mitchell asked, taking the opportunity to look down and admire her legs once again. The vision of those long legs and stiletto-clad feet wrapped around his waist caused him to shift his weight.

“It's okay. The Tylenol is managing the pain and the hotel doctor gave me something for the itching, so it's all good.”

“Glad to hear that. I hope you don't mind eating here at the hotel. They do have a great restaurant, but I also figured after traveling here, you might want to stay put.”

“That was very thoughtful of you,” Livia said, smiling. It was clear to her that he didn't know she was a guest.

Mitchell took her arm and led her outside to the Mango Bar. They were greeted by the hostess, who took them to a small table for two on the far tip of the bar area. It was the perfect spot for a couple of lovers, or a couple contemplating becoming lovers, to watch the sun go down on their inhibitions and welcome the moon's silver lust.

“This is really quite incredible,” Livia said, looking out on the sea as Mitchell helped her into her chair. “How did you find this place?”

“We thought about staying here, but decided to rent a villa instead,” he confessed.

“Probably for the best. You know, boys will be boys and all,” Livi teased.

“Okay, you can lose the visions of
The Hangover,”
Mitchell replied, referencing the now classic bachelor party movie. “Nobody's trying to trash hotel suites or kidnap a tiger.”

“Ah, I see, you and your friends are a party of gentlemen.”

“Your usual, Ms. Charles?” the waiter interrupted their conversation to ask.

BUSTED!
Livia thought, grateful that the server didn't know her first name.

“Yes, please,” she said, avoiding Mitchell's eye as the waiter wrote down her green teani and Mitchell's rum on the rocks order.

“Your usual?” he said, both confused and amused.

“I have to confess. I'm a guest here,” Livia said. “I mean, we were strangers…and I wasn't sure it was a good idea you knowing where I was staying.” Livia felt a self-conscious blush heat her face and accompany her laugh. “You know, you are the first man who's literally picked me up on the beach.”

“Sounds like the
naked
truth,” Mitchell said with a flirtatious lift to his lips. “But this revelation begs the question: what other secrets are you keeping from me?”

“Well, I'm probably older than you think,” Livia revealed, wanting to address that whale in the fish tank. It was such an obvious fact, but one she felt needed tackling before the night moved forward. “And if you don't mind me asking, just how old are you?”

“I don't really care how old you are. I'm hoping you feel the same way, but to answer your question, I am thirty-three.”

Sixteen years!
Livia's shocked mind did the math. It wasn't that she was really surprised; she'd guessed as much, but still hearing it confirmed—sixteen years! What was it about her and younger men? She'd taken herself out of the disastrous online dating pool for the very reason that the only men who contacted her were either grandpa or grandson, and she had little in common with either. What was she doing wrong that she could not for the life of her attract age appropriate men?

Well, we're not trying to date this honey. We're trying to fuck him!
Quincy reminded her.

“What?” Mitchell asked, confused by the look on her face.

“Let's just say, I was throwing my sweet sixteen party the year you were born.”

“So 1979 was a very good year for many reasons,” Mitchell said, not buying into her passive aggressive argument about their age difference. “I meant it when I said you are beautiful. Trust me, your face, that body, you put the young girls to shame, Ms. Charles, is it?”

Trust me.
His words hit her ears at the same time her own left her lips. “Yes, but just then you sounded like you were talking to your biology teacher. Quincy is fine,” Livia said, feeling more and more at home with her alter ego.

“Quincy Charles. It fits you,” Mitchell said, letting his fingers tiptoe closer to a spring of curls near her chin. “Very hot and happening.”

“Thank you.” Livia had to smile, not only because even though
Quincy was no more real than the bling in her ear, she was enjoying sporting Q's attitude.

The arrival of their cocktails, accompanied by the dip of light in the sky, made for a natural pause in the conversation. Within a few awesome minutes, the blue sky over St. Bart's turned fire red with streaks of pink and a burst of orange dropping below the horizon.

“A toast,” Mitchell offered, raising his glass. “To jellyfish.”

“Jellyfish? Really?”

“Absolutely. First of all, that jellyfish obviously knew fine and delicious when he saw it, and if not for him finding that sexy ankle of yours irresistible, I would not be sitting here right now enjoying the sunset and trying my damndest not to get caught up in the romance of it all, and lean over and kiss you.”

Livia was both taken aback and intrigued by Mitchell's very direct flirting style. It teetered on the line between polite and presumptuous. It made her feel desired and delightfully off balance.

“So, what idiot let you come here to this gorgeous paradise alone?” Mitchell asked, careful not to reveal what he'd already seen on the beach.

“I wanted to regroup. Sometimes when you travel with someone else it becomes a trip, instead of a vacation, if you know what I mean.”

“For sure, trying to synchronize schedules and interests and incomes, it can get to be a bit much.”

“Exactly, so I decided to treat myself to a real vacation. No worries, no one else's timeline but my own.”

“What do you do back in the States?” he asked, curious but really more interested in establishing a comfortable vibe between them.

“I'm um…I'm a chef.”

“Oh, a foodie. You apparently don't eat much of what you cook,” he said, with an admiring glance. “Do you work in a restaurant?”

“No. I'm more on the catering side.” Livia really didn't want to be any more specific about her personal information or the miracle of fashionable camouflage. “What's your favorite dessert?” she asked, turning the questions back on him.

“Peaches and cream,” he answered, looking her straight in the eyes before taking a swig of his rum and Coke.

Livia lowered her eyes to avoid broadcasting her emotions. Okay, perhaps she should be insulted by his bold, and some might think, nasty insinuation, but she wasn't. This sexy stranger was getting to her, but she wasn't quite sure if she was ready for him to know how much.

Flirt back,
Quincy demanded.
DO NOT pussy out on me this time.
Clearly, her vagina wasn't about to stand for Livia letting this yummy dick get away.

“Peaches and cream—a simple but tasty treat,” Livia replied, with a Quincy wink in her voice.

“Yes, and it's amazing how every recipe is different.”

“That's because every chef has her own secret ingredient,” Livia said, giving him a sideways glance.

Mitchell's response was a deep exhale and seat adjustment. Clearly, she had upped the ante and Livia could tell that he was enjoying every moment. She bit her lower lip as she contemplated her own feelings. Maybe this wasn't what she was used to, but wasn't that why she was here? Not to be courted or charmed, at least not this time. Liv was here to be open and sexually spontaneous, and Mr. Opportunity was staring her in the face, and knocking at her coochie's door.