Anything Goes.... Debbi RawlinsЧитать онлайн книгу.
“Let’s say we both came here to have a week of wild, uninhibited sex…
“Hypothetically, of course,” Carly quickly added.
Rick nearly lost it. Wild? Uninhibited? Was that why she’d come to this resort? He shifted to hide his body’s eager reaction, and nodded.
“Okay, then…” Carly seemed remarkably calm. “Wouldn’t you want the whole thing to be anonymous?”
“Why?”
Her eyes widened. “Surely you wouldn’t want anyone who knew you to be around watching.”
He put up both his hands and shook his head. “Hey, I’m not into that.”
She shook her head and sighed. “You know what I mean. Look, this is my one week of freedom and I’m not going to blow it.”
“What do you mean? Don’t you think we would hit it off in bed?”
She eyed him warily when he shifted closer. “It’s not that. What part of anonymous don’t you understand? I’ve known you for years.”
Rick shook his head. She just didn’t get it. “What part of chemistry don’t you understand?” he asked, then grasped her chin and slanted his mouth over hers.
Dear Reader,
I’m writing this letter while sitting on a balcony surrounded by thousands of pine trees and quaking aspens, atop a mountain in central Utah. It’s midsummer and the temperature is about seventy-two degrees—a far cry from the hundred degrees it usually hits at my home in Las Vegas. Tonight it will be cold enough to light a fire in the fireplace.
No wonder I fell in love with this place the first time I came here. That was a year ago May, and within two months I’d bought a condo—a refuge from the summer heat.
At the bottom of the mountain is a sleepy little town of about two thousand people—a charming place that also managed to snag a piece of my heart. A wholesome place where a Harlequin heroine could have grown up. Of course I’ve changed the name to protect the innocent, but this little town isn’t too much unlike Oroville, the place Carly Saunders calls home. With that in mind, I started playing the “what if” game, and the result is in your hands.
I hope you enjoy my story.
Debbi Rawlins
Anything Goes…
Debbi Rawlins
MILLS & BOON
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This is for Karl: Thank you for lighting up my life.
I love you.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
1
“NICE BUNS. That one’s definitely an eight.”
“Would you keep your voice down?” Carly Saunders slipped on her sunglasses, despite that they’d just entered the hotel lobby, and carefully avoided looking at the young man in the red Speedo.
Her friend laughed. “He didn’t hear me. Besides, a guy doesn’t walk around like that and not want to be noticed. Hey, check out the one with the ponytail in the yellow trunks. Another eight, wouldn’t you say?”
Carly groaned. “Ginger, please do not make me regret coming on this vacation with you.”
“It was your idea— Oh, my God, over there by the elevators, the blond with the ring through his right nipple. Awesome pecs. The rest of him ain’t so bad either.”
Obviously having heard Ginger’s big mouth, the guy looked up from his magazine and smiled. Carly made an about-face and headed for the restroom they’d just passed. Ginger was going to have to check them into their room by herself.
Ginger was right—it had been Carly’s idea to come to Club Nirvana, but she’d had no idea Ginger could be so brazen. Back at school she’d been a quiet, serious student with little time for dating. But the minute she’d stepped off the plane and sniffed the balmy Caribbean air, it was as if an on switch had been flipped and she had transformed into a sex-crazed madwoman.
Sure, they’d done their share of eyeing the grad-school male population. Not that the pickings were all that great at Sizemore University. Of course she and Ginger weren’t exactly centerfold material either—Carly looked in the bathroom mirror and shuddered—especially not after the ten-hour flight from Salt Lake City.
She tried to flatten her spiked hair. What the heck had she been thinking getting her hair cut short last week? Changing hairstyles right before an important event was incredibly stupid.
She’d learned that when she’d foolishly dyed her hair red the day before undergraduate commencement. A few days before, Sam Black had asked her to the afterglow party following the ceremony, but after they’d all tossed their caps into the air, he’d taken one look at her rather burgundy-looking locks and she hadn’t seen him since.
No great loss. He was a nerd. Just like most of her other dates. Just like her, according to some. But for now, she wouldn’t think about anything but having fun and doing whatever she damn well pleased. After a week of abandon and bliss, of mindless anonymous sex, she’d return to her hometown and fulfill her promise to teach at Oroville’s new middle school, total enrolment: one hundred and thirty-seven students.
“I’ve been looking for you.” Ginger came up behind her, looked in the mirror and let out a shriek. “Why didn’t you tell me my hair looked like that?”
“Like what?”
Ginger sighed. “Okay, so it’s always frizzy, but you could’ve at least told me about this.” She plucked at a particularly stubborn auburn curl that had broken free of the French braid Carly had worked on for an hour.
“Your hair is curly, not frizzy, something for which women pay good money, so get over it.”
Ginger lowered her hand and stared at Carly. “What’s got your panties in a