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But you know what, Mr. Cocky? If I’m not exactly bold by nature, I can sure fake it till I make it, especially when someone prods my pride. Acting carefree, I throw the sheets away from my body and hop off the bed, taking my time to retrieve my clothes from wherever we tossed them around the room. It’s a reverse striptease. But it works just fine. Archie’s eyes never leave my skin, I can tell even when I’m giving him my back. I turn as I pull the zipper of my little black dress up, and his hungry expression tells me I’m going to pay for the improvised performance next time he gets his hands on me. Ah, well, two can play this game.
My final act is to move out to the patio to retrieve my shoes. I pull one on and lean against the French windows, standing halfway inside the room to pull on the other.
“One last thing,” I say, straightening up and smoothing the creases of my skirt down. “No one can know about our… arrangement. Especially not my sister.”
I might not have done anything wrong, but I sure don’t need the added gossip.
“I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“Okay, but in public, we have to act as if we don’t know each other. Like, at all.”
Archie leans forward on the bed, the sheets rolling to the side and showing more distracting skin than I care to deal with right now. It’s hard to keep my tone stern when so many muscles are on display.
“I can manage that,” he says.
“Very well.” I give my pencil skirt one last straightening shimmy and head for the door. “See you later.”
I exit and close the door behind me, leaning my back against it for a moment. I let out a long exhale. Acting cool is exhausting. My heart is beating so fast I could’ve just come back from a—Aargh!
The door supporting my weight opens unexpectedly, and I tumble to the floor, landing on the carpet like a sprawled starfish. Above me, Archie is doing his best not to laugh while he peers down at me. My only consolation is that he’s pulled on his boxer shorts before coming to the door. I wouldn’t have cared for the fresh perspective on his… mmm…Pickle? Willy? Banana?
Oh gosh, and now he knows I’m thinking about his…Princess Sofia?
“You forgot your purse.” He dangles the black clutch above me and offers me a hand to stand up.
I make a point of getting up on my own. Then, having forever lost all my coolness, I quickly grab my bag, nod an embarrassed thank you, and make a run for it.
* * *
Back in the safety of my room, I contemplate taking a cold shower. I sure could use one. But who ever enjoyed a cold shower? Do people really take voluntary ones? I don’t think so. And my muscles are too sore from last night anyway to put them through a freeze fest. Honestly, I should skip the shower altogether and go for a bath—but there’s not enough time for that, not if I want to catch the 8a.m. yoga class I saw on the resort’s activities schedule. I need the stretching, and to practice some guided relaxation techniques.
I compromise with a short but scorching hot shower. As searing hot as the memories from last night that keep assailing me. Archibald Hill has easily been the best sex of my life. True, I haven’t had that many partners, but my ex, Robert, had years to get to know my body. What I liked and what I didn’t. And Archie, in a single night, managed to blow even that out the window. And the worst of it isn’t even the sex itself, but the way he made me feel. Like I was the only woman in the world, like nothing else mattered but us two tangled up in the sheets.
For someone who doesn’t do love, Archie sure gives intense, looking-into-your-very-soul eye contact in bed. I turn off the tap and shake the thought away.
Quick, introspective shower over, I change into black leggings and a neon pink tank top ready to relax and try to forget the hitch last night has put deep down in my belly.
In the lobby, I follow the signs to the detached cabana where the class will be held. When I reach it, I’m ten minutes early and only the teacher—a medium-height, super-lean brunette in a ponytail—is here. To keep busy, I grab a yoga mat, position it to the far-left side of the giant thatched hut with sliding glass walls that are now closed, and enjoy the view of the vineyard while I stretch my thighs.
I’m balancing on my left leg, holding my right foot close to my butt with one hand in a standing quad stretch, when a warm breath brushes against my neck.
“Morning,” Archie says.
And all I can say for myself is that I manage not to tumble at this man’s feet for the second time in less than an hour. I narrow my eyes at him and follow his movements as he grabs a yoga mat and places it next to mine.
“Are you stalking me now?” I hiss. “I said no contact during the day.”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “Just here for the yoga, honey.” And then, leaning in closer so that only I can hear, he adds, “Do you think I could hold some of the positions from last night without regular training?”
My entire body flames up at the comment, but I’m spared the need to come up with a smart retort by the arrival of other hotel guests. I just scowl at him in a back-off way and step on my mat, pointedly staring forward.
Not a very long-sighted strategy. I should’ve moved to the other side of the cabana. Because from here, I’m either facing his well-rounded buns that even yoga pants can’t hide or am all too aware he’s turned towardmyrear end. And as someone once said, leggings never lie. No matter that mine are the super covering type; I feel naked.
I know I’m being ridiculous because he’s already seen me properly naked, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling self-conscious. I try to focus on the teacher’s voice, controlling my breathing, inhaling deeply through my nose and exhaling slowly through my mouth, and let the tension seep out of my muscles, but every time I glance over at Archie, he’s grinning at me like the cat that got the cream.
Ah! So much for an hour of meditation and relaxation. Yoga is stressing me out more than having to talk to the dude. I should’ve taken a bath; that’s where I should be right now, soaked to the neck in hot, bubbly water. Instead, I’m stuck two feet away from the very man I was trying to wash out of my system.
I’m so on edge that I don’t immediately grasp what the teacher—Miranda—is saying. I automatically nod like the rest of the class, not knowing what I’m agreeing to. Must be something good if everyone else is on board.
