Anything Goes...

“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

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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 twist?”

“Do you have to gawk at every guy we pass?”

“I don’t gawk.”

“Yeah, right.” Carly turned back to the mirror. Maybe she should have gotten a few more golden highlights. Her hair still looked awfully drab, not really brown but not blond either.

“I was glancing. I don’t have time to gawk. There are way too many fine-looking men here to waste time ogling just one.” Ginger got out her lipstick and re-applied a coat to her already orange lips. “Do you think I should wear my pink sundress or the yellow sarong to dinner?”

Carly laughed. “We haven’t been here for five minutes and you’re worried about dinner wear?”

“This is a singles resort, n’est ce pas?”

Carly stuck her comb back into her purse, and didn’t reply. She figured the question was rhetorical.

“The travel agent told us that most of the guests arrive on Friday and generally stay for a week. Today is Friday.”

“And?” Carly said as they headed for the lobby.

“Tonight is crucial. Everyone will be sizing up everyone else and starting to move in and—never mind.” Ginger shrugged and walked out the door of the bathroom, steering toward the reception desk.

“What?”

“You don’t understand what it’s like to be the only girl in the senior class not to get asked to the prom.”

“Bull.”

Ginger stopped behind three women waiting in line to check in and turned to Carly with an arched brow. “You, too? No way.”

“And how about this one? Going stag to a party and standing around while all the other girls are being asked to dance. You try to shrink into the wall pattern while you’re praying that you’re not the last one.” Carly dug in her wallet for the confirmation number she’d tucked in with her blood-donor card. “And if you get really desperate,” she continued, “you pretend you have to go to the bathroom, and then leave before anyone realizes you’re gone. Assuming they ever do notice. Ah, here’s the number.” She slipped her wallet back into her purse, and then looked at Ginger, who stared back in surprise.

“I wouldn’t believe it except you sound like one who knows.”

“I’m flattered you think otherwise. But that’s the sorry truth. The only reason anyone from school would remember me at all is because our graduating class totaled sixty-three.” Not totally true. Actually, practically everyone in town knew who she was, but only because of her father.

Ginger laughed. “What’s wrong with those boys back in Oroville?”

“Apparently the same thing as the ones in Tucson.”

Ginger got serious. “I hope this week isn’t a bust. I’m using all but three hundred dollars of my savings for this trip.”

“I know. Me, too.” Carly mentally cringed at the dismal state of her own bank account. She’d be returning to her parents’ home, back to her old bedroom—she hoped without the white lace canopy bed. Expenses would be low…but the nights as exciting as dishwater.

“Next.”

The woman behind the desk motioned them forward. They’d been so busy talking they hadn’t noticed that the line had disappeared. Within minutes they’d registered, the bell staff had been notified to deliver their bags and they were in the elevator headed for the sixth floor.

Carly took a deep breath and told herself there was no reason to be nervous. She’d planned this trip for the past year. This was a necessary life experience. It would satisfy her curiosity, and in some ways, it would provide closure. If she ended up an old maid like her father’s two sisters, at least she’d have this trip to look back on.

This week there’d be no rules. No second-guessing. No worries. She’d bask in anonymity and have the most mind-blowing sex of her life.

THE BALLROOM LOOKED like Mardi Gras in June with red, yellow and blue balloons floating around the ceiling. Others were tied to the portable bars set up in each corner of the large room, already crowded with bodies, tanned and disgustingly well-toned bodies, more bare than clothed.

Mostly twenty-somethings, Carly guessed, the ratio of men to women thankfully pretty equal. Except the women here were all beautiful, or at least confident, she noted as a blonde wearing only a micro-mini sarong asked possibly the best-looking guy in a hundred miles to dance.

The band had just finished tuning up and started playing “Night Moves.” No one else was out on the dance floor yet. A few people sat at tables clustered in the back of the room, and the rest milled around the bars.

“What did I tell you?” There could be no doubt that Ginger was blatantly gawking at the passersby. And not just at the men. No discrimination here. The women wore the more mind-boggling outfits. Lots of bare midriffs and diamond-studded navels.

“Oh, my God.” Ginger straightened, throwing out her chest. “He’s coming this way. No, don’t look.”

Carly had started to follow her gaze, but instead kept her eyes trained on the stage.

“Okay, now. Look. Wait.” Ginger gave her a fake smile. “Do I have lipstick on my teeth?”

Sighing, Carly shook her head. Ginger was right. This was like high school all over again. The way everyone sized each other up made her crazy.

A tall guy with a ponytail and gold hoop earring approached, and she held her breath. He passed them and asked a blonde in a slinky neon-pink dress to dance.

“His loss,” Ginger whispered, and went back to scanning the crowd.

God, Carly hated this. Why did they have to have this meet-and-greet anyway? She shouldn’t have come. She should have made an excuse and stayed in the room. Surely she could meet someone on the beach, or at dinner, or maybe in the bar. This set-up was too reminiscent of her past failures.

“Wanna drink?” Ginger asked, her gaze drawn to a short brunette holding a thick orange fruity concoction topped with a cherry and pineapple wedge.

“More than life itself.” Carly tugged at the hem of her sundress. It hit mid-thigh, yet in here she looked modest. “I’ll get them. Vodka and tonic?”

“Nah, I want one of those frou-frou ones with a paper umbrella sticking out of it. And make it a double.”

Carly nodded, watching as people rapidly started to pair up. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but a double sounded good about now. She headed for the nearest bar while trying to figure out how many beads the drinks would cost her.

Their vacation package was all-inclusive, with food, drinks and entertainment costs covered. But as soon as they’d checked in, they were given three strings of colored beads each to be worn around their necks and used for payment. Why they had to exchange beads for services she had no idea. Probably some sort of marketing gimmick that went over her head.

At the first bar she tried, people were lined up five deep. No one seemed to mind the wait though. They all chatted and compared tan lines, or murmured comments about the bartender’s buns.

When she was finally close enough to get a look, she saw that all he wore was a red bow tie and a G-string. His partner, a blond woman who didn’t even look twenty-one, wore a skimpy flesh-colored bikini top with her G-string, close enough to her own skin tone that Carly took a second look.

The entire place was about sex. The predatory looks, the sultry music, the way both the employees and guests dressed. Even the drinks had suggestive names. It was kind of fun because she didn’t know anyone. Scary, too, though.

“I met you last year, didn’t I?”

The voice was close to her ear, and Carly slid a look at the man standing beside her. “Me?”

He grinned. “You were here last September only your hair was longer.” He made a slashing motion with his hand indicating a chin-length hairstyle.

“Sorry, wrong gal.”

He frowned. “You’re sure?”

“I think I’d remember being here before.”

His brown eyes sparkled with laughter. “I’m sure you would.”

The line moved and she edged closer to the bar, acutely aware that he’d moved up behind her. Close enough that his breath stirred her hair. He wasn’t really her type. A little too muscle-bound, but he had a terrific smile. And nice eyes.

She inched into a position where she could safely turn her head and said, “I take it you’re a repeat guest.”

“Third year in a row.” He already had a drink in his hand and he took a big swig. “Great beaches, free booze, beautiful women.” His gaze lowered insolently, and she fought a shiver. “What’s not to like about the place?”

The line moved again, giving her a graceful way out of the conversation. She gave him her back, hoping he’d take the hint that she wasn’t interested. Not even ten seconds passed when she heard him ask, “I met you here last year, right?”

She glanced back in time to see the woman behind him beam in answer. Sighing, Carly turned her attention back toward the bar.

This was what she wanted, she reminded herself. She’d purposely selected this resort because she knew it catered to singles. Heck, like everyone else here, she had every intention of getting laid this week. The affair would be anonymous, brief, and then she’d get on with her life. The guy behind her apparently had a similar agenda. He was just more open about it. Maybe she was being too picky.

It was finally her turn and she stepped up to the bar and ordered two mai tais with extra pineapple. She gave the bartender two purple beads in exchange, and then carried the drinks back to Ginger—who wasn’t there. Probably in the bathroom checking her teeth for lipstick.

Carly took a sip of her mai tai, wincing at its potency. Good thing she hadn’t ordered doubles. The fresh pineapple smelled heavenly and she was dying for a bite, but with both hands full, she’d be asking for trouble. She took another sip instead, feeling the stinging heat in her cheeks.

She hadn’t eaten anything since she’d left Salt Lake that morning and the alcohol was doing a number on her stomach. The pineapple wouldn’t be much but it would help the slight burning. If only Ginger would hurry and get back….

Carly spotted her on the dance floor. Under a spotlight, her red hair glistened as she danced to a Rod Stewart song. Her partner was a tall, long-haired guy Ginger had been eyeing earlier.

The song ended, and Carly felt annoyingly relieved. She was glad Ginger had been asked to dance, but she hated standing here by herself. The next song started and Ginger kept dancing. Sighing, Carly took another sip of her mai tai, wishing like crazy they’d grabbed something to eat as she felt the alcohol burn a path down to her stomach.

She glanced around for an empty table or somewhere to set down the drinks, and noticed a dark-haired guy staring at her. Not too tall, maybe a shade under six feet, with a wiry athletic build. She took another foolish sip and focused on the dance floor, trying to pretend she hadn’t noticed him.

Ginger had really gotten into the spirit of things. Plastered up against her partner, she wiggled and writhed until Carly couldn’t watch anymore. She finished her drink, clumsily bit the pineapple off the rim of her empty glass, and threw her head back to make sure she didn’t lose the slippery wedge. The fruit was a little tart, but she polished it off and then started on Ginger’s mai tai.

“Carly?”

She turned toward the masculine voice. It was him—the dark-haired guy who’d been staring.

He smiled. “Carly Saunders, right?”

Stunned, she nodded. “Do I know you?” She squinted at the prominent cleft in the center of his chin. Now that he was closer he did look familiar.

“You don’t remember?”

Slowly, she shook her head, wondering if this was another feeble come-on. She sure hoped so. She wasn’t supposed to know a soul here. Anonymity was the beauty of this vacation. A necessity, in fact.

He put a hand to his heart, laughter dancing in his hazel eyes. “After we spent two wonderful summers together? I’m deeply offended. Crushed, in fact. I’ll probably never be the same.”

“I think you have me mixed up with—” A flood of warm memories washed over her. “Rick?”

He grinned and held open his arms.

She could only stare. God, he’d filled out beautifully. His shoulders were so broad, his legs long and lean in his snug-fitting jeans. No wonder she hadn’t recognized him. Sadly, after a dozen or so years, she obviously looked the same.

“Damn, it’s good to see you. Come here.”

She shifted the drink to her left hand and awkwardly extended her right one.

Ignoring it, Rick slid his arms around her and lifted her off the floor. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

Carly tried to wiggle free. “For goodness sake, put me down.”

He did just that. Slowly. Letting her body slide down his. He stiffened suddenly, the look on his face suggesting he’d figured out that move wasn’t such a good idea. “Wow, kid, you’re all grown up.”

Carly touched the floor and immediately stepped back. “Enough that you can stop calling me kid.”

“Yeah.” He pushed a hand through his hair, looking a little bemused. “What’s it been, ten, eleven years?”

“More like twelve.” Amazing how suddenly and vividly she remembered that last day they’d spent together. They’d watched the beavers build a dam across the stream below his grandmother’s house.

Carly had reached a milestone the day before. She’d turned thirteen, become a young lady and convinced herself he’d finally return her adoration. She’d suffered her first broken heart that summer.

“I think I’d just had my sixteenth birthday that last vacation I spent at Gram’s.”

“That sounds about right.” Carly touched his arm. “I’m sorry about your grandmother. She was a nice lady and a terrific neighbor. My mom tells me everyone in town misses her.”

He shrugged. “She lived to eighty-seven in a place she loved. Can’t ask for more than that.”

“Sorry I missed the funeral. I was away at school and didn’t hear the news until after the fact.”

He shook his head. “I missed it, too. I was out of the country.” His restless gaze drifted toward the dance floor. “It’s noisy in here.”

“Yeah,” she said, torn. She wanted to suggest they go somewhere quiet and catch up. At the same time, she prayed she wouldn’t see him again for the rest of the week.

Darn it. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know she was here. Or know who she was. Too late. Still, it was great seeing Rick after all this time, and at least he had no more ties to Oroville. It wasn’t as if he’d go blab about her to anyone in town.

“I don’t really dance,” he said, inclining his head toward the dance floor. “I might shuffle around to a slow number once in a while.”

“No problem. I didn’t expect you to ask.” She shrugged. “If I wanted to dance, I would have asked you.”

The corners of his mouth lifted in a slow smile. “You haven’t changed.”

“Sure, I have.”

His gaze narrowed, and he studied her for a long awkward moment. “Come to think of it, this is about the last place I would have expected to find you.”

Heat crawled up her neck. “You plied me with enough pictures of these islands. And since this is the only resort here and the idea of pitching a tent didn’t cut it…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“What?” She grinned. All he’d talked about for the two summers was how he was going to be a famous archeologist some day. How he was going to travel to places that no modern man had ever been. “I wouldn’t have expected to find you here either. I thought you liked roughing it. Sleeping in a tent. Digging around in the dirt.”

“Yeah. Right.” He snorted, but seemed oddly annoyed, his gaze straying, his eyes restless. “Look, I gotta go but maybe we could meet for a drink or something later.”

“Sure.” Carly paused, not understanding what she’d said that was so wrong. She started to ask, but he quickly disappeared into the crowd before she could say boo.

Had his plans changed? Had he taken up another profession? No, he’d been far too passionate about archeology. Of course he’d been young, too young to etch anything in stone. Anyway, that would be no reason to be touchy.

“Who’s the hunk?” Ginger came from behind, fanning herself. “Damn, I’m hot. I hope that’s for me.”

Carly automatically passed her the mai tai, while continuing to stare into the crowd. “His name is Rick. Rick Baxter.”

“Whoa, you guys are on a last-name basis already. I thought that was a no-no.”

“I know him. I mean, we didn’t just meet tonight.”

“No joke? How bizarre.” Ginger took a huge sip and then used the damp cocktail napkin clinging to the bottom of the glass to wipe her neck. “You know him from school?”

Carly sighed. “No, from back home.”

“Good God, girlfriend, you have guys who look like that living in Oroville?”

“No, he doesn’t live there. He visited his grandmother for two summers. But that was over ten years ago.”

“Wow! Imagine running into him here.”

“He’s the one who told me about this place, or at least these islands.” Carly smiled remembering his enthusiasm. “He showed me stacks of snapshots he and his parents had taken. I knew then I’d come here someday.” She lost the smile. “I just didn’t expect to run into him.”

Ginger muttered a mild curse. “This doesn’t blow things for you, does it? I mean, are you gonna be worried that he’s watching you or something?”