What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [78]
Because yes, she’d come an amazingly long way. But . . . what if he was the only guy on the planet she could be this hot and wild with? What if she was healed . . . only with him?
And worse yet . . . despite her admonitions to herself this morning, she was beginning to think she’d made those resolutions far too late. Because parting with him just now had hurt, leaving her to feel ridiculously lonely. She still felt his kiss on her lips when she reached her room. And knowing she wouldn’t see him again until probably tomorrow night . . . well, it sounded like forever. And to think that after another week, she’d never see him again? Her heart physically ached.
The horrifying truth was—she’d fallen for Brent Powers. She’d fallen for him hard, and she had no idea how to save herself.
Chapter 9
Jenna had allowed herself the luxury of catching up on sleep that morning, and even after waking to look out on another glorious tropical day, she hadn’t felt inclined to venture out—so she’d ordered lunch in, then gone to the spa.
In addition to the massage, which had been fabulously relaxing and had indeed soothed her sore muscles, she’d gotten a facial and taken a mud bath. But after that, she’d felt a bit . . . bored, and remained out of sorts, all because of her newly acknowledged emotions for Brent. She suffered the insane urges of an in-love teenager—wanting to track him down, persuade him to spend time with her; time was so short, after all. And she’d resisted, of course, but she knew she needed to get her head straight about everything happening to her here.
Irritated with herself, she soon decided it would be wise to spend the evening much as she had her last evening alone. Rather than moping in her suite over her too-deep feelings for her guide, she pulled herself together and chose to continue soaking up the experience of being here as much as possible—even if in a more chaste way than usual. She put on a beaded tank and flowy skirt and went to dinner at the Paradise Grill.
She was slightly surprised to find the same calypso band playing, and she suffered mixed emotions. She’d loved their music, and she’d enjoyed the dance with her Blair Underwood look-alike, but she also felt a little embarrassed to see him again. Because she was unsure if any sexual vibes had passed between them—truthfully, she wasn’t used to recognizing such things if they weren’t as obvious as they’d been with Brent—and if something sexual had been there, would he think she’d come back because of him? And that brought up a familiar question: What did he think about the women who came here for sex? She was technically one of them now, no denying that. So did her handsome calypso singer think that made her a sex maniac, a slut, or maybe even worse—some lonely woman who couldn’t get it anywhere else?
Yet when his eyes met hers across the deck as he sang, she quit asking herself those questions. He simply gave off an air of utter . . . respect. And just now, in these strange surroundings, in the body of this strange version of Jenna Banks, she appreciated that—deeply. So when he smiled her way and offered a wink, she demurely smiled back and decided to enjoy this man’s simple, reverent attention. Maybe it was exactly what she needed to distract her from being so wrapped up in Brent.
Despite that, when the band eased into some soft reggae—“Is This Love,” a Bob Marley song she knew only because Shannon had gone through a Rasta phase in college—she couldn’t have been more surprised when the singer strolled slowly between the tables until he was crooning directly to her, the lyrics informing her he wanted to love her and treat her right. Her whole body went warm—partially with embarrassment, but the heat reached between her legs, too. When he lifted her hand for a kiss, her skin prickled,