Lead Me On (4 page)

To think a day at the beach used to be one of his favorite pastimes. Of course, that was back in the days when he and his older sister had come to Galveston to spend agonizing weeks trapped in the family beach house with their bickering parents. The beach had offered escape. Plus, to a hormone-driven teenager, ogling coeds had held vast appeal.

Okay, so ogling coeds still held appeal, but he didn't feel the least inclined to actually strike up a conversation with one and ask her out on a date. They all seemed too young.

He climbed the front steps of the inn thinking fond thoughts about a shower and a two-hour nap before he faced going out for dinner and maybe hitting a few of Galveston's night spots. Trolling for women was a lot more work than he remembered from his younger days. He much preferred the more adult liaisons he'd had since where a couple of gourmet dinners with fine wine, long talks about literature, travel, current events, a few movies, maybe a concert, all led up to the Big Event: a night of really hot, down-and-dirty sex—followed by more nights of hot sex, until both partners got bored and moved on. Unfortunately, those relationships took more time to develop than he had at the moment.

That and they didn't always end well. Sometimes they ended with a lot of crying, shouting, and accusations that left him feeling like a jerk. Who needed that? What he needed was a quick, effortless, no-strings-attached vacation affair. Now if he could just find an attractive, reasonably mature, halfway intelligent woman who was looking for the same thing he'd be set.

He stepped through the front door and sighed in relief when the coolness of the inn enveloped him. Pulling off his sunglasses, he waited for his vision to adjust.

"Oh, Scott," Allison called from the parlor-cum-office. "I have some more phone messages for you."

Groaning, he started to tell her to toss them in the

trash and save him the bother. Besides, the last thing he needed was to face the ever-tempting Allison after the day he'd had. Then the sunspots cleared from his vision and he saw the person standing with her in the office.
Hel-lo!

The tall, slender woman in a stylish pantsuit gazed back at him with equal interest. Short, brown hair framed a handsome face—not gorgeous, but attractive. He guessed her to be about his age, early thirties. But it was the expression in her eyes that got his attention. She looked directly at him in the manner of a woman who'd been around the block a few times and wouldn't mind another trip.

He stepped into the office on the pretext of gathering his messages. "Thank you," he said to Allison, holding out his hand without really looking at her. Looking at Allison St. Claire was not a good idea since it put too many lust-filled ideas in his head.

Allison frowned at Scott's rudeness, and the fact that he didn't bother reading the messages—again.

"Checking in?" he asked the new guest.

The woman made an affirmative humming noise as her gaze moved boldly down Scott's body. Alli blushed on his behalf. But rather than take offense, he let his gaze take a trip of its own, down to the woman's left hand to check for a ring. Well, at least he cared enough to see if she was married. When he didn't see a ring, he smiled.

"Are you here for business or pleasure?" he asked.

"Pleasure." The woman all but purred. "You?"

"Definitely pleasure. I'm Scott, by the way."

"Dr. Linda Lovejoy." She held out her hand.

And I'm Alli,
she wanted to say.
Remember me? The person who is standing right here watching all of this?

Scott set the messages down as he shook the woman's hand. "Doctor? As in M.D.?"

"Ph.D. Forensics specialist"

"Oh really?" Scott arched a brow. "Police?"

"FBI."

"Are you kidding?" His face lit up, like a boy who'd just been given a pony for Christmas. "You know"—he propped one hip on the desk—"crime scene analysis is one of my favorite subjects."

"I'll bet." The woman laughed.

"No, I'm serious."

Alli watched in amazement as Dr. Lovejoy, who had been all business a moment ago, tipped her head and smiled at Scott through her lashes. "Let me guess," Linda said. "You're either a cop, private investigator, or a writer."

"I've been known to dabble at writing."

Dabble?
Alli choked.

He must have caught the sound, because he glanced at her, then shifted his body to block her out completely. As if she didn't already feel like a third wheel.

"So," he said to Linda, "is this your first trip to Galveston?"

"Yes. You?"

"Not hardly. I've spent so many summers here, I'm practically a local. How long you staying?"

"Three days." Linda toyed with her necklace. "Two nights."

"I'd be happy to show you around in exchange for the chance to pick your brain."

Oh right
, Alli snorted,
like that's all he's interested in. Her brain.

A smile softened Linda Lovejoy's face. "I might be interested."

"Good." Scott straightened, which at least got his backside off the desk. "Why don't I let you get checked in while I wash off a few pounds of sand? I'll meet you downstairs and we'll talk about where to have dinner."

"All right." Linda watched him go, her gaze openly straying to Scott's buns as he walked away. Okay, so he

had some pretty incredible buns, Alli decided.

"God Almighty," Linda breathed when he was gone. "Is he for real?"

"I'm not sure," Alli said, hardly believing what she'd just witnessed. The man walks in, says "Hi, I'm Scott," and two minutes later he has a date!

"I wonder if he'd mind skipping dinner so I can eat him instead."

Alli's jaw dropped so far her chin nearly hit the desk—and the messages he'd left there.

Scott was just getting out of the shower when he heard a knock at the door. Dr. Lovejoy must be more eager than he thought. "Just a minute!" he called as he pulled on a pair of trousers. Still drying his hair, he opened the door.

Instead of the tall, leggy Ph.D. he found sweet Allison St. Claire. Her eyes widened at the sight of his bare chest before her gaze darted away. A pink blush stained her cheeks and he felt an answering flush of heat spread low in his belly. Damn, she shouldn't be able to do that to him now that he had somewhere else to focus his attention.

"You, um ..." She cleared her throat "You forgot your phone messages."

She held out the same three slips of paper she'd tried to give him earlier. He stared at her slender fingers and the heat coiled into a knot.
Down, boy
, he told his body,
good girls are off limits
. He plucked the messages from her hand, careful not to touch her. "From Hugh, I presume."

"Actually," she said in that sweet Southern-lady accent, "one is from your editor asking if you've sent the fax she needs. Another is from your publicist wanting to know if you'll agree to an interview with
Publishers Weekly
. The last one is from Hugh Ashton. He wants to know—"

"Look, I don't mean to be rude, but—" He cut himself off as he remembered that rudeness had always been a good defense in the past. "On second thought do me a favor."

"All right." She looked up at him with innocent blue eyes that widened when he started ripping up the messages.

"Tell my editor and my publicist I checked out and you don't know where I went. As for Hugh, tell him to
back off
." He leaned toward her and her scent filled his nostrils, making him want to shake her and tell her to back off, too. "Remind Hugh I'm down here trying to follow his advice, which is to take some time to do some serious relaxation. I can't very well do that if he's calling me five times a day. Can you tell him that for me?"

"Yes, certainly."

He pulled back to a safer distance. "Speaking of 'serious relaxation,' what room is Dr. Lovejoy staying in?"

If possible, Allison's eyes went even wider as his meaning apparently sank in. "The Crow's Nest. There." She pointed to a door at the top of the stairs, catty-comer from his suite. "Although ..." She trailed off, frowning.

"Although what?"

She surprised him by glaring back. "I hardly think an intelligent woman like Dr. Lovejoy would be flattered to learn you consider her as nothing more than a means to aid your 'relaxation.' "

Scott laughed. "You think only stupid women enjoy recreational sex?"

Her cheeks went all the way to red: fire-engine, I-can't-believe-you-said-that red. "I—I wouldn't know."

"Let me tell you something, sweetheart. Some women aren't any different from men when it comes to sex. Unless I'm way off the mark, Dr. Lovejoy is down here looking for the same thing I am. If that notion bothers your delicate sensibilities, I suggest you not watch."

"Yes, well ..." She gathered herself up to her full height, which didn't even come to his chin. "If you'll excuse me."

She turned with dignity, and walked toward the stairs.

Guilt hit him full in the face. God, he really could be a bastard sometimes. Well, if nothing else he didn't have to worry about her tempting him anymore with her dainty manners and sexy sweetness. She'd probably give him a wide berth for the rest of his stay.

~ ~ ~

Anger and embarrassment followed Alli all the way down to the apartment in the basement. She would simply forget the last few minutes ever happened or that Scott Lawrence even existed. The rude, arrogant, obnoxious ... toad!

"Hey, Alli," Adrian called from the sofa where he lay sprawled out in shorts and a muscle shirt, drenched in sweat. Fortunately, he'd spread a towel to protect the furniture so she wouldn't have to fuss. "You'll be happy to know Chance and I finished the jogging trail. It now runs completely around the island. Of course, after working on it all day, Chance wanted to try it out. God, I swear, he might be a skinny geek, but he can run even me into the ground. He's a total klutz at t'ai chi, though, so I guess we're even."

"Does everything with men have to be a competition?" she demanded hotly as she moved around the combination counter/bar that divided the kitchen from the dining and living area.

"Long day for you too, eh?" Adrian said, apparently noticing she was not in the best of moods.

"Yep." She slammed a metal mixing bowl onto the counter.

"You want some help with dinner?"

"No, it's my turn," she answered as she took out a package of ground beef. She dropped that onto the counter beside the bowl and started gathering the other ingredients for a meat loaf.

"Wanna tell me about it?" He came off the sofa and took a seat on a barstool across from her.

"What makes you think there's something to tell?"

She grabbed a meat cleaver and chopped an onion in two with one brutal stroke.

"I don't know, but I sure am glad I'm not that onion."

She looked up with the knife still in her hand. "I just want to know one thing. Am I ugly? Do I have a huge wart on my nose that everyone but me can see? Do I have body odor? What?"

"That's more than one question, but the answers are no, no, no, and what the hell are you talking about?"

"Men!" She attacked the onion, chopping with a vengeance.

"Uh, since I happen to fall in that category, do you think you could put the meat cleaver down before we continue this discussion?"

"There's nothing to discuss." She set the knife aside and scraped the onion into the bowl.

"Good. I'm too tired for a discussion that starts off with a woman saying 'Men!' "

"Blind cretins. Or maybe I'm invisible." She added bread crumbs and an egg, and started working them into the meat with her hand. "They never even look at me, much less ask me out, or so much as make a pass at me."

"Are we talking about a general 'they' or a specific 'they'?"

"We're talking about a Scott Lawrence 'they.' " She shook some spices into the meat mixture. "He wants to have sex."

"Excuse me!"

"Scott Lawrence came to Galveston hoping to play a little beach blanket bingo."

"He told you that?" Adrian came halfway off the barstool.

"Sure did."

Adrian plopped back down, stunned. "Do you want me to beat him up?"

"Yes, actually I do." She continued squeezing the in-

gradients through her fingers. "I want you to break both his kneecaps for insulting me."

"I can't believe he propositioned you."

"He didn't"

"Okay, now you lost me." Adrian held his hands up.

She glared at her brother. "Scott Lawrence told me he needed to do some 'serious relaxing,' which apparently includes recreational sex. The thought of having it with me, however, never crossed his mind."

Adrian gave his head a quick shake, as if to clear it. "Let's back up here. How do you know it didn't cross his mind?"

"Because ... he didn't even try to make a pass at me." She pulled out a Pyrex baking dish and transferred the meat mixture into it.

"That doesn't mean he doesn't want to," Adrian said. "More likely, he just figured out you're not the beach- blanket-bingo type. You're more the 'Let's buy a house with a picket fence and have a couple of kids' type."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're saying a man can tell that after a few brief encounters?"

"Nooo, I'm saying a man can tell that after a few seconds. Like that hot number who checked in a few minutes ago—now there's a candidate for beach blanket bingo."

"Well, apparently Scott agrees with you, because they have a date tonight."

"Man." Adrian gave a low whistle of admiration. "Touchdown on the first play."

"Cretins," she growled and stalked to the sink to wash her hands. Yet all the questions whirling in her head wouldn't go away. "Adrian ..."

"Yes?"

She shouldn't ask. It was too embarrassing. But this was her brother, and if she couldn't ask him, who could she ask? Drying her hands, she turned to face him. "Is there really such a thing as recreational sex? I mean, I know you men claim you can do it without any emotion involved, but ... do you think it's possible for a woman?"

"Sure." He shrugged. "For some women, anyway."

"What do you mean, 'some women'?"

"People want different things out of life. Some women are focused on their careers, or they haven't found Mr. Right, or they've just come out of a bad relationship and don't want to get seriously involved for a while, or any number of things. But not wanting emotional involvement doesn't mean they want to do without men altogether. As much as women like to bitch about us, admit it, there are times when y'all like a man's company. Especially when it comes to what a man can do for you in the bedroom. Well"—he backpedaled—"not you personally."

"No, of course not me." She suppressed a twinge of hurt. Her experience with sex was so limited and so far in the past she was likely a born-again virgin. "Adrian ... do you think there's something wrong with me? Something that repels men?"

"No, there's nothing wrong with you. I assumed you didn't date because ..."
Because you were so badly hurt the one time you did.
The words hung between them, unspoken, but there. "Because you didn't want to."

"I'm not sure what I want." She dropped her gaze to the towel and continued wiping her hands. "I know I'm not interested in getting married."

"Why not?"

"I'm just not." She looked up and saw the doubt in his eyes. "I'm serious. I have no interest whatsoever in marriage. But lately I've been wondering ... don't you think it's unhealthy to be completely asexual?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Nuns do it all the time. Or rather, nuns don't do it"

"I'm not a nun."

"No, you're not." He sighed. "But if you're thinking of having an affair with a man based solely on sex, don't. You're not cut out for it."

"How do you know?"

"Alli, I've known you your whole life. You aren't capable of sharing something that intimate with a man and not getting emotionally involved. Which is why men don't hit on you. When the right one comes along, though, you'll both fall like rocks, and live happily ever after, just like Rory and Chance."

"I told you, that's not what I want"

"Of course it is. All women want that, eventually."

"God. Men!" She tossed the dishcloth onto the counter. "You think you know everything."

"That's because we do." He grinned at her. "Now, are you going to actually cook that meat loaf, or leave it sitting on the counter all evening?"

Fuming, she slid it into the oven, and went to the refrigerator to decide on what vegetables to cook. If her brother was right, that men had been avoiding her all these years because they thought she was after marriage, they were all dead wrong.

~ ~ ~

The sound of a car door slamming woke Alli during the night She was used to guests coming and going at all hours, and had learned to roll over and go right back to sleep. Then she remembered: Scott and Linda. They'd left early in the evening, both of them dressed for a night on the town.

Against her will, Alli lay there listening. With her basement window beneath the veranda, she had no trouble hearing the footsteps on the oyster-shell walkway, followed by feminine laughter.