Pleasing Her SEAL(6)

       
           


       

Ashley sighed. "You think he's a hard-ass about everything?"

"Probably." If she took her friend's words at face value, she had to admit that the man certainly had an amazing butt.

"Remember the drinks menu," Ashley said impishly. "You could take him for a test drive."

The rumored drinks menu, she reminded herself. The menu existed. She'd  spent far too much time flipping through the twelve laminated pages of  drinks with sexy names like Leather and Lace and Kinky Sex. The  question, however, was whether those drink names were really  not-so-covert code names for naughty sex acts that could be requested  from the staff or other guests. Laney Parker had certainly made a good  case for the menu being fact rather than fiction. She'd hooked up with  the resort's super-sexy masseuse and, from her blushes, done some menu  exploring with him. It was too bad the other woman had been unexpectedly  called home when a new job had opened up for her at a local emergency  room, because Maddie had questions. Like, could you really just point  and pick? For some reason, the notion felt kind of slimy. "Do you really  think Mason's available for that?"

Ashley shrugged. "Ask him."

"A guy who looks like that isn't available." Not in her universe and not with her dating bad luck.

Ashley ogled Mason. "Are you offering him to me?"

No. She really wasn't. "He's off-limits," she blurted, surprising  herself. She hadn't decided yet if she was going for him, but she knew  she didn't want to watch Ashley making a move on her chef.

"He's all yours," Ashley said, looking at her over the top of her  sunglasses. "But you have to tell me what you're planning for him."

"He may not be interested," she warned.

"Oh, he's interested." Ashley grinned and, although they both knew she  had no way of being certain about Mason's interest, Maddie appreciated  the support.

Maddie didn't want to explain how many times she'd met a guy and gone  after him, only to learn that he thought of her as the fun friend. At  the last wedding she'd attended, the usher she'd been paired with had  spent the evening reception hitting her up for the maid of honor's phone  number. His patent disinterest in her own charms had rankled, too,  because she'd thought they had good chemistry. Clearly, her dating radar  was broken.

"Remember," she said lightly. "I'm always the bridesmaid and never the bride."

"How many times?"

It took a minute to do the math. "Thirteen. And gig number fourteen is  coming up in a month. I have enough bridesmaid dresses in my closet to  open my own bridal shop."

Ashley made a sympathetic face. "You think they'd notice if you recycled and wore one more than once?"

"They'd notice," she said with feeling. She'd dealt with more than one bridezilla.

Ashley nodded. "So. What's the plan?"

She didn't have one.

"Pick a drink," her friend advised. "Imagine the possibilities. I'll  get you started. Dirty Girl Scout. Sex on the Farm. Sexy Alligator."

"You made that one up."

"Right here on the menu." Ashley stabbed the plastic with her finger.

"Alligators aren't sexy," she protested. And sex on a farm didn't sound  particularly exciting, either. She was more of a  sex-on-a-yacht-with-a-billionaire type of gal.

Ashley shrugged unrepentantly. "Imagine Mason's face if you asked for that. You could get him to do anything."

They both turned to stare at him. Nope. Imagining that was even harder  than finding the sexy in an alligator. Ashley wasn't deterred.

"Pink Panties. Sex in the Driveway. Long Slow Screw Against the Wall." Ashley waved a hand. "Stop me when I get warm."

"That sounds so cheesy," she objected. But it also sounded fun. Her stomach hurt from laughing.

"Think of all the ways to improve your love life." Ashley smirked at her, as if finding an improved sex life was that simple.

Maddie stared at her margarita. No easy answer in the mango-flavored  cocktail. Even though she was technically here on a working vacation,  she'd been encouraged to sample everything the resort had to offer. So  she could better describe it for her blog followers. She'd been more  than happy to comply. A free week of R & R at an all-inclusive  luxury villa? Sign her up. She could do whatever she wanted. Check out  the beach. Go to lunch twice. Spend all her afternoons lazing in the sun  or lying out at the spa.                       
       
           


       

Alone.

She hadn't considered the implications of being a party of one until  her seaplane had been wheels down-did seaplanes even have  wheels?-surrounded by happy, honeymooning, we're-having-fantastic-sex  couples. Truthfully? She was lonely. Envious. Horny. As she watched  other couples kissing and holding hands and generally getting started on  happily-ever-after, she was feeling more than a little left out.

She clutched the mango margarita, fighting the urge to make a face. She  had nothing to complain about. Hello, free vacation? It was just that  she had kind of imagined that someday she would be the bride and that  there would be a Mr. Maddie by her side to frolic on the island with  her. Instead, she had another bridesmaid gig lined up for next month,  and her lunchtime companion was another singleton she'd met on the  seaplane.

Not that Ashley wasn't fantastic. She was.

A shadow fell over them. "Ladies," a familiar deep voice said. Mason stood over them, big and stern. Oops.

* * *

MADDIE KNEW HOW to follow orders. Sort of. And definitely in her own  unique, impulsive way. Mason probably shouldn't read anything into  Maddie's attendance of his cooking class, but she was trouble and he had  a feeling they both knew it.

After he broke up her gossipfest with Ashley, she bounced up to the  temporary cooking station he'd pointed her to as though he hadn't just  interrupted a conversation about her dating life. Her bikini hugged her  gorgeous curves and made his fingers itch to touch her, to smooth the  fabric away and uncover bare skin. Her red hair was pulled up in a  ponytail that brushed her shoulders with each jaunty step she took, and  she had a pair of big white sunglasses pushed up on top of her head. Her  cover-up was some kind of wrap thing with fringe on the sleeves that  made him think of bedrooms. And getting naked. He thought a lot about  getting naked when he was near Maddie.

She didn't seem to be mad at him about his startling her yesterday,  which was a plus. On the other hand, she wasn't exactly paying all that  much attention to him, either. Apparently, she wasn't harboring teacher  fantasies.

Still, he couldn't help stealing glances at her and envisioning all the  ways he could get to know her better. Make her feel better. She'd  seemed...lonely. Even though she'd had her cute butt parked next to  Ashley and had been laughing and talking up a storm like she always did,  there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. Maybe it was just because she  was literally here by herself and Fantasy Island didn't have a swinging  singles scene. He'd never seen so many couples glued to each other  outside a porn flick. He'd walked past the Jacuzzi the other night and  his eyeballs still burned.

He lined his students up at the table, passed out mangoes, and then  knives. Since he only had the four students, giving Ashley a wide berth  was difficult, but he managed. Guests three and four were a honeymooning  couple more interested in each other than mangoes. That was fine with  him. Teaching crepe making was new to him, so the smaller the audience,  the better. As soon as he barked go, Maddie obediently went to town on  her mango, wielding her knife with more enthusiasm than skill. She  attacked the fruit the same way she appeared to attack life-head-on.

She was beautiful, but that wasn't the reason for his attraction. Or,  rather, it wasn't the sole reason. As hokey as it sounded, when she got  close, he wanted to smile. To hold her in his arms and dance her around  in a big old circle until she collapsed against him, dizzy and laughing.  He wanted to laugh with her-and he'd felt that way since he first  landed on the island and had set eyes on her.

She was someone special. And if there was an edge of desperation  beneath her laughter, he wanted to know that side of her, too. She  wasn't just the life of the party, even if that was what she wanted the  world to believe. And he didn't think for one second that she was  content with standing on the sidelines, watching wedding after wedding.  So what did she want?

A piece of mango hit the pool deck. She cursed, and nearly amputated  her finger, and he decided it was time for an intervention. Her fruit  was a mangled mess and he'd sharpened the Wüsthofs himself that morning.