Authors: Susan Lyons
“I was free as the wind.” Jenny grinned. “Being self-employed has a heck of a lot going for it.” Her grin widened. “Plus, this could count as research. It could be fun to do an article on internet dating.”
“Sex,” Suzanne murmured, just as Ann said, “Been done too many times already, but—” She broke off. “Did someone say sex?”
Flushing, Suzanne leaned forward and beckoned them all to do the same. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted anyone overhearing. “Internet sex. I’ve been having IM sex.”
“IM? Instant messaging?” Rina queried, but Jenny’s voice overrode her. “Holy crap, woman, tell all! With caveman?”
“Yes. With Jaxon. That’s his name. Spelled with an ‘x’ rather than a ‘c-k.’ He lives in San Francisco.”
“Obviously you decided to reply to his e-mail,” Ann said dryly.
“Monday night. And we’ve been e-mailing back and forth and . . .”
“And having IM sex?” Rina finished, her dark brows drawn together in puzzlement. “How on earth do you have IM sex?”
Suzanne knew her cheeks were fiery by now. Jenny saved her by saying, “Get a grip, Rina, use a little imagination. Think of how you have phone sex.”
“Phone sex? What, exactly, do you do with the phone?” Rina asked with pseudo-innocence.
They all burst out laughing.
“Seriously,” Rina said, “I’ve never had phone sex. But I can imagine. You talk dirty to each other?”
“Among other things,” Ann said smugly.
“Aha!” Jenny pounced. “You have some experience.”
“I dated a guy who lived in Toronto and we only saw each other every two or three months. But we did burn up the phone lines.”
Suzanne stared at her friend. Why did she always assume Ann was as starchy as her tailored suits? “You’ve had phone sex? So, you mean he tells you what he’d like to do to you?
And you, uh, touch yourself and . . .”
“I’d guess it’s pretty much the same as cyber sex. Is that how you and Jaxon do it?”
Suzanne clapped her hands to burning cheeks. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. It’s like something out of
Sex and the City
.”
“Never that,” Jenny said. “We’re way too stuffy for that.”
“Inhibited,” Rina said.
“Reserved. Discreet,” Ann contributed.
“Canadian.” Jenny rolled her eyes. “Only in New York are gals that out there.”
Suzanne winced. “But don’t you see, that’s what Jaxon expects from me. I’m outrageous69. He doesn’t know I’m this stuffy, inhibited, reserved, discreet Canadian. Well, he knows I’m Canadian, but he thinks I’m like Samantha used to be on
Sex and the City
. Completely concerned with sex.”
“Let me see,” Ann said mischievously. “The first time you meet the man, you end up in a cave, uh . . . Okay, let’s call an apple an apple, like Samantha would.
Fucking
. Three times.”
The word “fucking” made Suzanne flinch. But Ann was right, it had hardly been making love.
“Then,” Ann said, “the next time you’re in touch, you’re both typing sexy suggestions and masturbating.”
Suzanne winced again. Damn, how could she pretend to be outrageous if words like “fuck” and “masturbating” embarrassed her?
Ann raised her eyebrows. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m thinking Samantha would be proud of you, Suze.”
“But it’s not me,” she admitted softly. “Not the real me.”
“Then who is it?” Jenny asked. “That evil twin again?”
“No! It’s not evil, it’s . . .” She frowned. It sure hadn’t felt evil, it had been so . . . “Sexy,” Suzanne said, her confidence beginning to grow again. She gave a firm nod. “That’s it, it’s my sexy twin. And that’s who has to go on my date with Jaxon.”
“Suzie! You’ve arranged to meet him?” Rina spoke first, but all three of them gaped at her.
Their waitress interrupted, impatient to take orders. When she mentioned the daily special, some kind of fancy salad, everyone quickly ordered it. Jenny said, “And curly fries, we have to have a ton of those fantastic curly fries.”
As soon as the waitress had gone, Jenny turned to Suzanne.
“Okay, Suzie Q, spill. What’s the scoop?”
“He’s flying up on Friday and we’re going to meet.” She gulped. “I’m terrified.” Because, after all, she really was Suze, the sensible, boring twin.
“What do you know about this man?” Ann asked. “What does he do? Are you sure he’s not married? What about—”
Suzanne broke in. “I did ask if he was single, and he said yes.” She frowned. “I have no way of knowing for sure, but why would he lie? Why would he think I’d even care?”
“Because you do,” Ann pointed out.
“No! I mean, yes, I do, but that’s the sensible twin. Why would he think outrageous69 would give a flying”—she swallowed and made herself say it—“fuck whether he’s married?
And no, I don’t know what he does for a living. I didn’t ask and he didn’t say. And I didn’t tell him what I do.”
Ann’s frown made Suzanne rush on. “Don’t you see, that’s not what we’re all about, Jaxon and me? It’s not one of those typical relationships where you meet the guy’s family and friends, where he talks about his job, sports, whatever. Don’t get me wrong, that stuff is great. That’s what my life will be like when I’m a vet and I meet the right man, and we get to know each other, make sure we’re long-term compatible, then get married, buy a house, have kids.”
And in that moment, she realized that all the mulling—and IM sex—of the last couple of days had led her to a conclusion. She rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “But that’s then, and this is now. I want what Jen said: a walk on the wild side. I want to be outrageous69, the sexy twin. Scrap all that
mundane
stuff, this may be the only opportunity I’ll ever have to do something really daring.”
“Or maybe dangerous.” Ann rested her hand on Suzanne’s forearm. “I’m worried. You don’t know a single thing about this man. He could be a psycho. I understand your craving for adventure, but you have to be careful.”
“Sspoilssport,” Jen spat out, hissing the ess’s.
“I’m not saying don’t meet him.” Ann glanced around the table. “But the three of us are going to be there.”
Everyone kept quiet while the waitress delivered their meals, then Suzanne said, “Ann, I’m cautious enough to admit I’d love a security net, but on Monday you said you don’t even have time to date your new guy.”
“This is more important.”
“She’s right,” Rina said. “We’ll be there, won’t we, Jen?
What time? Where?”
Suzanne felt a surge of love for her friends. Whatever her life might bring in terms of romance—be it adventuresome or mundane—she would treasure these women’s friendship.
“Early evening,” she said. “I was thinking Spanish Banks?
Kind of like the first time, walking toward each other along the beach.”
“No caves at Spanish Banks,” Jenny teased.
“I can’t imagine we’re, uh . . .”
“Going to leap into each other’s arms and have sex?” Jenny finished. “Why not? You did the first time.”
They had. Suzanne still had trouble believing she’d really done it. But she’d had too much wine, too much sun, hadn’t really been responsible for her actions. On Friday, she would be.
“Why not just go to Wreck Beach, then you can both get naked?” Jenny said slyly.
Suzanne shook her head vehemently. “Not this time. I don’t want to be
that
daring.”
For the first time she glanced at her salad, a colorful, imposing composition. What on earth had she ordered? Something adventuresome, obviously, and wouldn’t you know, she felt intimidated by it. She reached for a curly fry. Ann finished a bite of her own salad. “Yum, that’s great.”
Then she said, “Suze, if you go for a walk, stay where there are lots of people. There are some dark, deserted places up in Pacific Spirit Park. And absolutely do not get in a car with him.” She snapped her fingers. “Walk over to Athene’s for Greek food, and reminisce.”
“Dinner . . . God, Ann, I honestly don’t know what to expect. I don’t know this man. This isn’t, like, a normal date. As for reminiscing, the only thing we did was . . . Well, I can’t see sitting in Athene’s and talking about . . . you know.”
“Fucking,” Jenny said gleefully.
Rina sent her a chastising glance. “What about a picnic? Go to Granville Island and buy a bunch of delicacies. Put them in a picnic basket and leave it in your car.” She grinned. “If things don’t work out with Jaxon, you can share with us. But if you and he get along when you meet, you can picnic on the beach. Go wading in the ocean. Watch the sun set.”
“That sounds better,” Suzanne said. “But geez, are you three going to sit on a blanket watching the whole thing? That’s too weird for me.”
“If you stay on the beach, you should be safe,” Ann admitted. “So we’ll hang out for a little while, and when you feel comfortable with him, give us some kind of sign. Then we’ll go get on with our own lives. Our
mundane
little lives.”
Jax consulted his map and steered the rented Boxster toward the Burrard Street Bridge. He could have asked Suzanne to provide directions, just like he could have asked her for a hotel recommendation, but he didn’t want her to think he was anal. Especially because he really was.
He shifted up, gave the car a little gas, and it surged forward as if it had wings. Was he crazy to have splurged and rented a ritzy black Porsche? At home he didn’t even own a car. Didn’t need one, living and working downtown, with the Bay Area Rapid Transit making it an easy ride to his mom’s place in Berkeley.
The breeze felt good against his skin. A convertible did give you a great sense of freedom. He could almost forget the guilt that had plagued him since he’d left the office this afternoon. God, what a mess he was. Here he was, on his way to meet the sexiest woman alive, and all he could think about was his job. He’d better get a grip, or Suzanne would take one look at him and head straight in the other direction. But the thought of work lingered in his mind. What about her? She must have a job too. They’d never e-mailed about anything other than Crete, and sex. He shook his head to clear it. An erotic escapade, that’s what her ad had asked for, and promised. Jobs had no place in what they were doing.
She’d told him to meet her at Spanish Banks. Kind of a sexy name. Did Banks imply caves? He couldn’t imagine she’d . . . Oh hell, if she was anything like she’d been on Crete, he could imagine Suzanne doing just about anything. But would he, conservative lawyer-guy, be up to the challenge?
She’d said he should park in the last lot, then walk along the beach to the west, away from the city.
Again, they would meet on a beach. He liked the symmetry. But this wasn’t a nude beach, thank God. Sure, he was in shape and women found him attractive, but he couldn’t imagine having the guts to strip off his clothes and walk, naked, toward lovely Suzanne. On Crete it had been by accident, not design. Could a planned meeting even come close? Maybe he should have settled for memories, and dynamite cyber sex. The road got narrower and the breeze saltier. Spanish Banks turned out to be a long beach lined with concession stands, volleyball nets and a series of parking lots. Lots of people around on this summer evening.
He pulled into the last lot and found a spot. When he turned off the engine, his heart was pounding so hard he could barely breathe.
How could he feel so nervous, when the scene around him was so wholesome? On the grass, a boy and his father played Frisbee with a golden retriever. A middle-aged couple cycled along a paved path and a pack of teenaged girls sped by on roller blades.
People were wearing shorts or jeans. He was slightly overdressed, in his black jeans and new designer T-shirt, but he didn’t know where the evening would lead. He was aiming for casual, a little classy, versatile enough to go with whatever Suzanne had in mind.
Suzanne. Everything was so different this time. They knew each other’s names. This wasn’t a magical Greek paradise but her hometown.
Last night he’d come in his own hands, reading e-mail from her. And she’d done the same.
He drew in a shaky breath. Jax Navarre had few qualms about meeting with CEOs of multibillion-dollar corporations, but the idea of walking down the beach toward Suzanne gave him a serious case of nerves.
And yet, it turned him on.
Dumping his leather sandals in the miniscule trunk of the car, he removed the single tiger lily he’d chosen. Fiery, passionate, exotic. Like the woman he’d bought it for. He walked across a strip of grass to the paved path that ran beside the beach, crossed it, and stepped down on the sand. The beach was a narrow strip punctuated with battered logs and rocky outcroppings. This sand was coarse compared to the fine white sand of Crete. Its grittiness abraded his soles and grains collected between his toes. It had been years since he’d walked barefoot in the sand, but it felt good.
A couple of kids splashed and swam. To his right, across a stretch of ocean, was a spectacular view of Vancouver. The setting sun created an eye-dazzling glitter on the windows of distant high-rises. At another time, he would have stopped to admire, but now he turned his back and began to walk. Most people were wearing sunglasses, but not Jax. He wanted to see Suzanne without any barriers. Had she cut her hair? How would she be dressed? He had absolutely no idea of her taste in clothing. Or in anything else. Except sex. She liked it hot and wild.
* * *
Suzanne’s legs were so shaky she could barely walk. But as her bare feet got accustomed to the grainy feel of damp sand and the breeze cooled her flushed cheeks, she gained confidence. She felt herself becoming the sexy twin, the woman who’d attracted Jaxon on Crete. Her head came up, her shoulders went back and she began to smile. Up on the grass, her friends sat at a picnic table, eating KFC
and pretending not to watch her. It was good to know she wasn’t alone, though she was embarrassed that they’d witness her meeting with her mystery lover. She’d taken forever deciding what to wear, and had ended up with a crop top in a shade of peachy cream almost her own skin color, and a long, gauzy skirt striped in yellows and oranges. The skirt opened at the front and she’d only buttoned it down to mid-thigh. A breeze teased her hair and tossed the filmy fabric of her skirt, peeling it back to show her legs, then floating it forward to wrap demurely around her.