Page 12 of Release (Symbols of Love 3)

I roll my eyes at her. "I know where I am. I just thought we'd be sightseeing, not lying by a pool all day. I can do this in Miami."

"Well, I can't do this anywhere else. And it's my vacation, too," she snaps. "You promised me you'd try. That you'd smile and be nice. You barely even looked at that beeee-autiful man this morning. You're crazy. If you don't want him, then next time we see him, I'll be trying my luck.” She points a finger at me, scrunching up her nose and squinting at me, a wide grin on her face. “Never let it be said that Bambi Goldarella looked a gift horse in the mouth."

I laugh at her ridiculous name and tuck a stray curl back into the bun I’ve pulled my hair into. I don’t like the way my stomach clenched when she joked about trying her luck. I know she doesn’t mean it, but I shouldn’t even care. But I do. Fuck. I glare at her. “Fine, but stop trying to push me into something I don’t want.”

“Oh, please. Shut up,” she says around a frustrated groan. “I was there this morning. You tried to act unaffected, but I saw the way you looked at each other. He wants to take a bite of you, and you look like you wouldn’t mind giving him a little nibble.”

I can’t help but laugh.

She claps her hands together in approval. “You’re laughing. Keep doing it. Try to have fun, let him woo you. You’re on vacation. It doesn’t matter what you do while you’re here. He doesn’t even know your name. You can be whoever you want,” she leans toward me and says. I have to admit that I like the idea of being able to pretend that I am Emma, whoever she is.

I concede. I don’t want to ruin her vacation. And she’s right. Laughing just now had felt good. "You're a pain in the ass. But fine."

She nods, satisfied. "Good. Now, I'm going to get a massage. I saw there’s a lady giving them down on the beach, and on my way back, I'll find us some drinks." She strolls off, and I envy how easily she walks around in her skimpy bikini, not even bothering to put on the cover up she shoved in her bag as soon as we got to the pool. I can’t even remember what that kind of nonchalance feels like.

I stretch through a huge yawn. As I rub my tired eyes, I curse myself for leaving my sunglasses at home.

/>

Last night, I hadn’t been able to get thoughts of the rude, gorgeous Brit out of my head. I'd cursed him for stealing my sleep. I tried to guess what he was doing here. What his name was. If he was single – I couldn’t imagine that he was. And then I cursed myself for caring.

The minute I woke up, I looked at my bedside table, and the first thing I saw was the wad of cash he'd dropped on the bar before he walked away. My anger reanimated, my embarrassment felt as fresh and terrible as it had the night before. I’d been carrying the money in my little purse, with plans to hurl it at him the next time I’d see him.

Instead, when he'd appeared at breakfast this morning, I'd found myself completely tongue tied. I had to stop myself from ogling him. I felt him watching me while I got my breakfast, but I hadn't been prepared for the look in his eyes when I turned around, determined not to look at him. I plastered a smile on my face, hoping to look oblivious and content. But I hadn’t been able to help myself from stealing a glance. And when I turned my head in his direction, it was like being hit with jolt of electricity. His heavy, expressive brows had been raised, as if he were glad I’d caught him watching me. And to my horror, his brazen appraisal sent a thrill through my entire body, it left me wanting to be seen, rekindling a flame I thought I’d snuffed out a long time ago.

I came here in hopes of taking the first steps toward reclaiming parts of myself that I lost five years ago. I want to enjoy my life again.

But what I don’t want to reclaim is my foolish and false sense of security when it comes to sex and men. The way I live now is much safer. For the last five years, and up until a few days ago, I could have sworn, it was also enough. The fact that he’s making me question myself should send me running for my life. Instead, I’m going to dinner with him. I close my eyes and groan out loud. And as if in commiseration with my mood, the sun disappears under a cloud.

“You’re on vacation, sounds like that are illegal.”

The cloud obscuring my heat source is not a light, fluffy thing that’ll be moved along by the next strong wind. Instead, it's six feet, three inches of beautiful, terrifyingly persistent man. It’s like I conjured him.

I want to scream "why?” but instead I hit pause on my phone, pull my earphones down and glare up at him. His eyes are shielded by dark aviator sunglasses, but from their upward tilt to the smirk on his lips, I know he’s amused.

"I thought we weren't meeting until dinner?" I can hear the petulance in my voice, but I can’t help it. He’s completely unaffected by it and gives me an amused smile.

"I finished early. Why in the world are you wearing those huge headphones? Your ears must be sweating," he says as he flops down on the chaise next to me. He lays on his side, props his head up on his hand and eyes me like I’m wearing a tin foil hat on my head.

I return his perusal, taking in his long, oh so perfectly muscled legs that are displayed to perfection in his board shorts. Even his feet are nice, damn him. He's wearing a plain white T-shirt that's seen many wash cycles; it’s practically threadbare, and I can see hints of his skin through it. I look away and pretend to look around.

"There are about a hundred other chairs around this pool. Why did you choose this one?" I demand.

"The shade’s stronger here.” He says breezily.

"Actually, it's not. You'd do better over there." I point at nothing in particular. "Go away." I sniff and stare straight ahead.

He laughs out loud and settles back into his chair. "I don't think I will.”

I turn my head to look at him and find him watching me with a satisfied grin.

“I like you. And I think you like me, too."

I flush and say, “I do not.” And then, pull my earphones back on and press play.

He pulls one of the ear phones away from my head. And I jerk out of his grasp and demand “What are you doing?”

He shrugs, looking at my headphones in confusion. “Don't you have ear buds?"

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