4. A Pirate’s Life

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I thanked God for sunglasses,or the person who invented them, all the way back to my cabin. I doubted Wyoming had a clue my eyes stole more than my fair share of glances at him and his crystal blue eyes and his muscles. And how about those forearms, one with the little tattoo of a phoenix?

The door of my cabin slammed shut, and I relaxed my back against it, sighing now in my private space. Why had I felt an immediate attraction to that guy? In no uncertain terms could I get involved with anyone. My situation here allowed me to maintain a very low profile, simplicity without complications being key.

Wyoming Platt looked very much like sex on a stick—No, I meant like a distraction. His entire presence and my reaction to him was an intrusion I hadn't counted on this summer.

"Okay. It's fine. You can handle this. Just put him out of your mind." I headed to my desk.

As much as I had put down technology in front of him, my cabin resembled a mini-mission control full of computer screens, displaying public views of the campground around the clock, when the Wi-Fi cooperated. I could check the common areas, and the front and back of each of the cabins, including my own. Simple systems, I had set up myself the minute I arrived here.

I zeroed in on cabin two, bringing my necklace up to my lips, a bad habit when I concentrated on things. The camera showed the new guest following directions as he waited on the porch of his cabin, reclining on a chair with his ankles crossed in boots on the railing. Even like that, he was so damn cute.

"Look, there's no reason to panic, just because you haven't felt the arms of a good man loving you for—" I flipped through my calendar, and slumped into my chair. "—far too long. He's only an attractive man. And I have a vibrator that does just as good a job as a man can."

After that scolding I needed, I sighed and got to work, eventually resetting Wyoming's lock. A quick view of the property, scrolling through all the camera feeds, reflected a lazy afternoon.

Cabin three, occupied by a family of four, was often the noisiest, as the parents' loud voices, laughs, arguments, and scoldings rang out through the campground. Their bratty kids were on the front deck, ignoring the scenery surrounding them, instead peering down at their electronics playing way too loudly with bleeps and gunfire.

They reminded me of myself and my brother when we were younger. There's so much I'd like to tell that girl if I could go back in time, like stop and look away from your device and take in all the beauty the world holds. I blamed my dad for introducing technology to us at such a young age, or else I wouldn't be in the predicament I found myself in now.

A newlywed couple currently resided in cabin four, and they hardly came out all week. Lots of noises too, but the kind that involved moans and fuck yes, a few spankings, and definitely the headboard knocking. Not that I spent an inordinate amount of time around their cabin, just happened to be cleaning next door one morning and overheard their fun.

A pang of envy banged against my chest. There I went again, missing something I couldn't have right now. I left the monitors, and fixed myself lunch.

A new book would help distract me. The cabin came with shelves of romance books, whoever was the former occupant obviously a fan. One I found appeared mildly interesting, The Pirate Who Took Me. I slouched onto the settee, my attention held for a little while. But eventually, curiosity reigned.

I reverted back to the view of cabin two at the monitors for a peek at Wy—No. Wyoming Platt. No nicknames or familiarity for me. Hell, I'd even call him Mr. Platt, if it would help keep him at a distance.

On the screen, I could see he'd unpacked his jeep, stacking his things neatly on the porch. Why not inside? Didn't he get the email about the reset?

I swallowed hard as he stripped off his t-shirt, more golden skin coming into view, filling in the blanks of what the rest of him looked like.

Then came his boots and suddenly a towel was around his waist. He appeared to be shimmying his jeans off and putting something else on—board shorts, I saw, once the towel came off.

He stood there, lean and toned, his shorts low on his hips, with more muscles everywhere than I'd imagined. Toward the lake, he took off at a run. I switched cameras and watched him jump in off the dock, biting my lip the entire time, almost drawing blood.

Next thing I knew, my feet were carrying me there.

"You can get into your cabin now," I called from the dock when his head popped up from the water.

"What's that?" He stood, the lake near the shore being only about five to six feet deep. The water sluiced down his tanned chest and abs as it raised above the water level, and I moaned, probably loud enough for him to hear.

"I said, I fixed the code. You should be able to get in now." I gestured toward his cabin.

"Why don't you take a break and get in here with me for a swim?" He motioned to the lake, arms outstretched.

"Oh, um, no."

He walked through the water, parting for him as if he was the aqua-king himself. Somehow my feet wouldn't move, glued there, forced to watch. He climbed the ladder and, once on the deck, I fought every urge to trace his muscles with my tongue.

"Then let me buy you dinner in thanks. I'm hungry." It wasn't a question, and the way his eyes skimmed to my chest and back up, I had a feeling he wasn't just hungry for food.

I shook my head. "I'm only doing my job. No extra thanks needed."

"You have something against dinner? Maybe a juicy steak would tempt you?"

I had the urge to tell him I was vegan just to yank his chain, but I settled for another lie instead. "I have plans."

"Some other time, then. Do you have any suggestions about where I can get a nice dinner on this side of the lake?" He came closer, and I turned away, bristling at his words.

Long before the far side of the lake was taken over by the Steele's and developed as a billionaire's playground, the entire lake was more like this side. Pristine, relaxed, accessible to anyone regardless of income, according to my mother, whose family was from here.

"For something cheap, head about ten miles down the road to the roadside grill. That's about all you'd find on this side. Otherwise, for something nice, take out your life savings and head back to Steele Valley. Take a walk down Main Street to any of the five-star eateries there," I suggested over my shoulder, not willing to get one bit closer to Wyoming. Now hunger struck me, too, but damned if I'd admit it.

In the safety of my cabin again, I settled into a chair and tried to read more, but the words on the page refused to sink in. Seeing Wyoming wet and stripped down to just his shorts left me twisted inside.

The old me would have flirted like hell, especially back in college among my friends, letting loose at a nightclub. We were all gorgeous Ivy League brats. I was such a smart, brave young woman then. I lived for Dad's praise of my work. While at home, I loved my mother's beauty and confidence, which she tried to instill in me.

That was then. Now, this was the new me and my life, hiding without a clue whether things would ever return to normal.

What if they never did, and I stayed stuck in this borrowed life? What if Eve were allowed to flirt with Wyoming, to pretend she was a normal woman with crazy sexual urges, allowed to live her life free without looking over her shoulder?

"It's no use." I sighed and drew a bath in the old clawfoot tub. A good soak with a bath toy might help.

I trailed my hand through the warm water as I sat on the edge of the tub, grateful that the manager's cabin had this one luxury. The rest of the cabins at the camp were rustic at best, with modest kitchenettes, simple bathrooms, and rough-hewn furniture.

I settled into the bath and stared out the window with a slight view of the lake through the trees. The resort across the water sparkled in the twilight.

These cabins were a world away, a land that time and money forgot. Far from the glitz and glam, far from fake people living the high life in Steele Valley, and far from money and power and how it could sour good people.

It's funny how I used to be one of them. Hidden here, though, I distanced myself from it all. Except Wyoming crash landed on my side today. Was he friend or foe, Mr. State Name, but dressed like a local?

It was boredom doing this to me, longing for a man. I went from working twelve-hour days, passionate about my project, and weekends partying or traveling with friends. My nights were not always lonely, often flitting from one short-term relationship to another.

Here in this small town valley, this campground that's harboring me, this simple, lonely life with nothing to stimulate my brain or my body, no wonder I couldn't rid my mind of Wyoming.

I reached for the pirate book again, reading fast through the sexy part, then tossed it onto the sink. With my leg propped on the edge, I turned on my personal massager and found my clit, letting the water's warmth and the vibrations relax me. Finally giving in, I let every thought of Wyoming titillate me in a little fantasy while I pleased myself.

"Why, darling, don't you shine tonight," he says, taking my hand as I enter the ballroom, twirling me to get the full view of my red designer ball gown.

"And you're handsome, my man named after a state," I purr back, tucking a red rose into the lapel of his tuxedo.

He leads me in a tango across the dance floor. No one else joins us, all faces admiring the beautiful couple we are as we pass them. We don't stop until we're out under the stars, a million lights twinkling all around us.

He leans in, feathering words across my ear. "You're a temptress in this dress. I desire you, Eve." His lips graze my skin, a burning path left in their wake.

"Yes, take me right here, right now." My head lolls back, my long, dark locks cascading down. More of his kisses land across my collarbone. He savagely rips the cup of my gown, revealing my breast and I gasp. His mouth captures my nipple, his tongue delighting it in swirls.

All the while, his other hand gathers my gown, diving under the layers of material, finally reaching land, or my thigh, in this case. With devilish intention, he snaps my garters off, my stocking falling to my ankle. His fingers slide along the skin of my inner thigh, reaching my wet panties.

"There's the pot of gold I've been searching for. And now, I'll plunder it." Wyoming morphs into a sexy, dirty pirate, having his way with me, his fingers splitting my seam, teasing my clit to a hard nub.

"Oh, God, yes!" Water sloshed all around me and out of the tub as my body suddenly convulsed in the most wicked orgasm I'd had in some time.

Whoa. Maybe I should stay away from pirate romances and fantasies for a while, at least the entire time Wyoming was in the vicinity.