Contemporary
Island Heat
By Jules
Aug 18, 2007, 18:11

Chelsea Pearce knew someone was watching.
 
Again.

A scraping sound from the balcony above sent an odd crawling sensation down her neck as she attempted to eat lunch.  Not easy to do when someone was staring. 

If someone was staring.

Pretending it wasn’t too late to conceal her identity, Chelsea casually pushed her oversized sunglasses up the bridge of her nose and pulled the straw sunhat’s brim closer around her face. With a purposeful sip of iced tea, she tried to refocus on Ally, who was, as usual, ignoring her salad and waxing poetic about her boss, Spiro.

Still, that all-too-familiar feeling of someone watching persisted. Chelsea knew she ought to be used to it by now. Since arriving on Crete, she’d tried to keep a low profile, but experience taught her that disappearing from her world and starting fresh wasn’t an option.

Maybe, this time, the noise was just a resident. After all, the three-story building above the café housed at least six apartments. One belonged to Ally.

Chelsea set her glass on the table and sighed. She could be so self-absorbed sometimes. Honestly, must every sound and movement revolve around her?

“Did Spiro finally rent out that apartment?” she asked Ally, pointing to the balcony.

“Nope, still empty. He’s been too busy to show it. You want it?”

Ally’s words hit Chelsea like a sharp kick in the stomach. There was no way in hell Chelsea could afford an actual apartment. Not one with multiple rooms and a full kitchen. Not since Daddy Dearest cut off access to her credit cards, trust fund, and everything else minutes after she stormed out of the family’s upscale Boston brownstone.

Which was fine. She wanted to – no, needed to – live on what she earned.

But, more importantly, if the apartment was still empty, who was on the balcony?

“Um, no,” Chelsea responded, stealing another quick peek before sending Ally an apologetic smile.

Then another sound permeated through the noise of the lunch crowd. Click. Click. Click. When she jerked her head back to look, the long, charcoal nose of a camera withdrew behind the balcony rails.

Okay. Maybe the world did revolve around her just a tiny bit. Why else would someone be taking pictures from the balcony? Sure, they were in downtown Heraklion and the city was attractive. Could it have been a tourist?

Yes. Definitely a tourist. Had to be.

Sweat trickled down the back of her neck as she placed shaking hands on her lap, intuitively brushing her fingers over her right wrist. The cool metal of the heavy silver chain bracelet burned her skin. Branded her. Who was she kidding?

It was only a matter of time before they caught up with her. Like they had in Spain. And Italy. Her father’s minions hiding in bushes like aspiring paparazzi.

It was stupid, really. It wasn’t like she was trying to keep her location a secret, but at twenty-five, she didn’t want her parents watching her every move.

“You okay? You seem pale.”

“I’m fine,” Chelsea responded, hoping she sounded more casual than she felt. “Just the humidity.”

For a brief moment she considered telling Ally about her situation, but quickly dismissed it. Aside from not wanting to drag Ally into her problems, it was embarrassing.

Besides, who cared if they were watching? That’s all they could do, is watch. Even living abroad and bartending in a single’s resort, she wasn’t exactly giving anybody anything to write home about.

“Oh. Well anyway, I finally just told Spiro he was too old for me.”

Chelsea blinked, not sure if she heard Ally correctly. “You did what?”

“I said—”

“I know what you said. But Ally, I thought you had a thing for Spiro.”

“A thing?” Ally’s eyes rolled back as she scowled dramatically. “God, no.”

“But why not? He’s awesome. And he can’t be more than forty.”

Ally shrugged. “That’s like a ten year difference. Besides, I don’t have a thing for him. I don’t.”

Chelsea couldn’t believe the lies flying out of Ally’s mouth. She often wondered what secrets her friend kept. Why Ally lived here, and not in Australia where she was raised, for starters. Chelsea had secrets, too, of course, but were Ally’s even in the same ballpark? Doubtful.

“Whatever,” Chelsea muttered. Secrets or no, Ally’s unreasonable behavior made zero sense. Spiro was Ally’s boss, sure. But he was hot. But more importantly, he treated Ally like a Goddess.

This was nothing a little ouzo couldn’t fix. She made a mental note to take Ally out drinking as soon as possible.

Glancing up at the balconies again, there was no sign of the camera. Or the photographer. Could she have imagined it? Could it have been a tourist?

Yes. Sticking with the sneaky tourist theory worked. Because that would mean her parents tired of following her, and finally, after twenty-five years got the hint: she wasn’t interested in being a pawn in their stupid, manipulative games.

“Well, you should talk,” Ally finally said. “You have tons of guys asking you out at work. I don’t see you taking any of them up on their offer.”

The Bacchus Spa and Hotel, the singles’ resort where Chelsea bartended, was a breeding ground for hot affairs and sexual experimentation. On paper, staff weren’t supposed to get involved with guests, but Chelsea was the only employee she knew of who bothered to follow the rules. “It’s different. Those guys are just looking for a fling. Spiro is looking for something more.”

“Maybe we should trade jobs. Because I’d give my right arm for a fling.”

Chelsea’s mouth dropped open.

“Oh, please,” Ally sputtered. “Don’t tell me you never had a fling.”

“I – I haven’t. I’ve had a few boyfriends. Long term boyfriends.”

“Hmm.” Ally crossed her arms, nodding knowingly. “I’d always assumed your sweet and innocent routine was an act.”

Heat rose in Chelsea’s neck, and then spread into her face. Sweet and innocent routine? Is that what Ally thought?

Could this afternoon get any worse?

Probably sensing Chelsea’s supreme humiliation, Ally laughed nervously. “I’m sorry Chel. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. But really, you don’t know what you’re missing.”

Chelsea pursed her lips, not wanting to admit the truth. After all, she was young, living abroad and finally experiencing freedom. Why not a fling? But the very idea of being intimate with someone she barely knew was rather...unsettling.

Then again, she had no trouble lusting over some of the bar guests. Why not take it a step further? She needed to loosen the heck up.

“I know,” Chelsea said, folding her hands. “I keep getting hit on at work, and it’s getting frustrating.”

Ally’s eyes widened. “Are you feeling harassed?”

“No, no. Just...” Chelsea bit the inside of her cheek and looked at Ally dead-on. Was there a polite way to say horny? “Confused, I guess. Prone to make a bad decision soon. If you know what I mean.”

Ally laughed and placed her elbows on the table, acute interest in this conversation obvious. “There’s no such thing as a bad decision. Anyone noteworthy?”

“No. The latest guy I’ve been lusting after checked out this morning. So now I’ll have to wait for the next hottie to come along, sweep me off my feet -- then proceed to have hot monkey sex with my co-workers.” She half smiled. “At least I’ll get to hear the details.”

“Why won’t you let anything happen?”

Super cool and confident - if not a bit misguided when it came to Spiro - Ally didn’t need to know Chelsea’s history. Her experience with men? An embarrassment. Her engagement to David? An exercise in public humiliation. She needed another blow to her self-esteem like she needed white starch carbohydrates. “Why bother?” Chelsea flung her hand in the air. “I’m here to work. They’re here on vacation. Besides, my bosses frown upon fraternization.”

“Oh, please. I think they turn a blind eye to it. I’ve seen your co-workers in action.”

“Whatever. The thing is, I’m trying to be professional.”
Ally’s face scrunched up into a confused mess.

“Professional?” she sputtered. “You’re a bartender, not an accountant.”

Unfortunately, being professional meant being on her best behavior because her every move was being monitored by her father. She could move to another continent – hell, she could travel back in time – and they’d still find a way to keep tabs. Hopefully, by maintaining a boring-enough existence, they’d go away. And, after three months of not seeing anything suspicious, she thought her strategy had worked.

Until today.

“Right now, all I want is to lay low and save some cash. I have to figure out what I’m doing with my life. The last thing I need is some hot guy distracting me.”

“Listen.” Ally’s intense gaze met Chelsea’s straight on. "You’re young, you’re in Greece and you’re unattached. Do something! Make it count.”

Make it count. Right. “I’ll think about it.” Despite good intentions, after three months, Chelsea couldn’t say she’d done anything to make it count. Heck, on some level, she was still trying to please her parents. Where had that ever gotten her?

“No. Just do it,” Ally said, her tone emphatic.

“I know you’re right. I should stir things up.”

“Good. Now that we’ve got that established, let’s talk about how we’re going to find you a boy toy.”

“A boy toy? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Boy toy. Fling. Whatever. You need to do this. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Oh, terrific. Is it that obvious?” Good to know she looked as desperate as she felt. Could be why she earned excellent tips.

“Yep.”

“All right. Well, advise me. Because I have no idea where to even start.”

                            ***

Thirty minutes later, Chelsea was on her secondhand bike riding back to the Bacchus Resort. The hot and sticky air made the ride uncomfortable, but the promise of a dip in the ocean before work kept her going.

Ally thought Chelsea needed to get laid. Have sex with some random guy from the resort. The idea wasn’t new. In fact, the thought entered Chelsea’s mind, on a very theoretical level of course, about once or twice per night. How could it not? People – single people - from all over the world visited the Bacchus.

She’d have to choose carefully, though. That is, if she went for it. Which was highly unlikely. But, if she did, the last thing she needed was another filthy rich guy sweeping her off her feet and then treating her like crap, even if it was for only a week. Been there, bought the t-shirt. No. If she was going to have a fling, she’d have to find a guy who was closer to middle class. Or at least acted like it.

Cursing under her breath, she pushed up the main hill leading to the hotel. One day, she’d make it to the apex without risking passing out.

She stopped near the top to catch her breath, just as a sleek, silver Mercedes sped past. The top down and the radio cranked, the male driver’s hair blew freely in the wind.

She smacked her lips and watched the car speed along the coastal roadway. Who cared about a Mercedes, anyway?

You do, an evil voice in her head suggested.

No. No more rich men. They were all the same – controlling, manipulative and unfaithful. Except for Spiro. She’d gotten to know Ally’s boss over the last couple of months, and concluded that he was probably from a different planet because he was perfect. One of these days, she’d have to find out if he had a brother or a cousin she could meet.

And why was Ally being so stupid about him, anyway?

It would be so easy to fall for some local rich guy with a nice car and nice things. She could still thumb her nose at her parents. Continue to work and be independent. But do it in comfort. Right?

No. Bikes were good. And so was a simpler life. She’d changed for the better, and was finally happy. Better job, better friends and much better mode of transportation.
Because it was hers.

She approached the bottom of the hill and almost didn’t see the Mercedes parked on the side of the road. The driver stood, leaning against the car door, reading what appeared to be a map.

As she approached, he looked up with a set of hazel eyes that made her heart stop. “Hello,” he called out, waving.

Oh my God. Australian accent. How sexy is that? “Hi,” she responded, barely audible. The guy was incredibly hot, with dark blonde hair, poker straight, just brushing the tops of his broad shoulders. Silver sunglasses perched on top of his head, exposing the planes of a strong, chiseled face. Oh, and those eyes again. Had she ever seen eyes so distinctly hazel before?

“Do you know where I might find the Bacchus Resort?”

His words snapped her out of her hot-man-induced trance.

Great, another vapid resort guest looking for a good time. Ah, well, it was fun while it lasted.

“Yes, actually, just stay on this road for another mile and a half or so, and you’ll start to see the signs. But you have to watch for them, because the turn off is easy to miss,” she explained, conjuring her most professional voice possible.

His lips curved into a dangerous smile. Full of mischief.

Good Lord. “Are you going that way?”

“Uh...” Why did he want to know?

Her heart pounded. From the bike ride and the heat, of course. Oh, the heat. She raked her fingers through her hair and was horrified to realize her sun hat had fallen, and was not hanging around her neck by it’s cord. Visions of a frizzy, wet mess of a hairstyle flooded her mind. Not to mention all the sweat on her face and in her eyes.
She must look like hell.

“I’m...no. I’m not. I’m going the other way.”

“The other way? What’s the other way?”

The employee entrance, for starters. The gravel path that led to rows of tiny bungalows set aside for foreign, temporary workers. Her mouth opened but no words came out.

The man laughed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to put you on the spot. But you look like you’ve been out in the sun for a while and I thought I’d offer you a lift.”

Her cheeks burned. Her face was probably some very lovely shade of maroon by now, between the bike ride, the heat and the Aussie. Fabulous. Hopefully she’d return to a normal color tonight. If she was really lucky, he wouldn’t recognize her when he came by the Ambrosia Bar, Bacchus’s pool bar where she worked, where all resort guests ended up eventually. To taunt her.

“I’m fine. Uh, this is my workout. The fact that I’m a sweaty mess means it’s working.”

He nodded slowly, his lips pressed together. “Yes. I agree, it’s definitely working.”

Her breasts, heavy and tight, strained against the cotton of her tank top. She bit her lip. No way was he flirting with her. Not now. Sure, guys flirted all the time while she was behind the bar, looking cute. But right now? Ew. No. She was having severe, heat-induced delusions. Riding her bike in the hot Greek afternoon was a mistake. “Right. Okay, see you later.” She readjusted her position on the bike and started peddling, channeling any and all athletic prowess in existence.

A few moments later he sped past her, cruising toward the resort. As she followed in his tracks, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d be seeing more of him.

And that she may have just blown her best chance at a fling.

                             ***

Nate Brennan snapped his camera case shut and slid it underneath the small round table. Enough work for one day.

Standing in the middle of the room, he examined his surroundings. Plasma TV, ocean view, king-sized bed. The suite rocked, definitely worthy of its five star rating.

Plenty to keep him occupied. Or distracted. But there was no time for entanglements this week. He needed to focus.

He grabbed his book and sunglasses from the nightstand and walked outside. Squinting, he slid on the silver-rimmed shades. The scorching Greek sun was relentless, even at four in the afternoon.

No complaints, though. Having just finished a grueling assignment in South America, he’d take hot and sticky sans bugs any day over hot and sticky and covered in bugs.

Strolling through the breezeway, a shiny white bar beckoned in the distance, adjacent to the pool area. Probably a good place to grab a beer and hang out for a while.

He walked in, scanned the crowd, and found a seat on a high-backed wicker barstool. Oversized, open windows allowed the sea breeze to pass through, so it felt like outdoors. Straight ahead, a priceless view of the Mediterranean beckoned. He should have brought his camera.

A light coconut scent wafted under his nose as a female bartender approached him. “Hey there. What can I get you?”

He looked up and was instantly taken aback by a familiar pair of blue-green eyes. She sure cleaned up well.
“Oh, hello.” Her lightly tanned face pinkened as recognition took hold.

She’d looked cute earlier this afternoon, but now...totally different league. Shoulder-length blond hair fell in waves around her heart shaped face. Slender hands were firmly planted on rounded hips. Her arms were strong and toned and tan, and covered with a light dusting of sand.

The last thing he needed was to meet a hot woman tonight. But there she was. Hot. Blonde.

Luscious.

Nate blinked, unable to remember if he’d actually arrived in Greece or was still on assignment in the Chilean desert, because he had to lick his lips to keep his mouth from completely drying out. Like an oasis, her aquamarine eyes mirrored the ocean.

He had no doubt she could quench his thirst.

“Well, well. Must be my lucky day. Didn’t expect to run into you again.”

She half shrugged, a small smile playing her lips. "Surprise,” she said, sounding as if she wasn’t at all surprised to see him.

Her presence here could be very beneficial. He’d first seen her this afternoon eating at Spiro’s Café, and tried to catch up with her on the drive back. But he hadn’t wanted to push it. It was obvious she’d felt uncomfortable, alone on her bike on a lightly-traveled road, so he decided to let it be.

But this, her being here now, was a gift.

“Do you know what you want to drink?” Friendly voice. Sweet. And husky.

“I was going to order a beer, unless you want to recommend something. Any specials?”

The corners of her mouth turned upward and mischief glinted in her gaze as she turned to prepare his drink. “I’ve got just the thing.”

So cute. He wished he’d have time to get to know her better. And that his reasons for wanting to get to know her were more honorable. But, sadly, he had to stick to his plan.

In the meantime, he could at least look. Actually, seeing the outline of her tight rear through her denim skirt left him little choice.

She returned a moment later with a tall, fancy glass filled with a bright, pink liquid, looking very pleased with herself. He cocked his brows, not sure if he could get away with drinking it. It was so...pink. She’d even stuck a paper umbrella in next to the straw. “Should I start a tab for you?”

What the hell was he thinking? Why hadn’t he ordered a beer? He’d need about a dozen of these bad boys to catch a buzz. Which, he thought as he glanced up at her, standing there looking smug, might not be a bad thing. “Definitely. Thanks.”

He took a sip and was pleasantly surprised. Tasted good, like Kool-Aid.

Moments later, he’d finished. He raised his empty glass and motioned for her to bring another. “You can put some alcohol in this one.” Reality was scheduled to come crashing down on him in about twenty-four hours, so an evening in oblivion was more than welcome.

“Very funny.”

“I’m serious.”

“You can’t be. I make stiff drinks. You must be a lush or something.”

Two hours later, Nate wasn’t sure how many drinks he’d sucked down, but he no longer felt embarrassed to be seen with them. He loved them. Loved watching her reach for booze on the highest shelf while trying to keep her tank top from rising too high. Fine if he couldn’t catch a glimpse of her abs. Her arms were totally amazing, and bore a strong resemblance to the sculptures of the Greek goddesses in the resort lobby.

He raised his glass for her again. This time, she walked toward him and placed her hands flat on the bar counter.

“Why don’t you switch to water for a while? Or soda?”

Was she cutting him off? Her smile suggested an endless sweetness, innocence. In a way, she didn’t seem like bartender material. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Let me get you some water. I’ll be right back.”

As she turned, he reached out and curled his fingers around her delicate forearm. Sweet and innocent was tough to resist. “Hey, wait. I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll let you cut me off, but only if you join me.”

“You’re no good to me intoxicated,” she said, her tone soft. Had she really said it? Or was it wishful thinking?

“What did you say?” he asked.

Her face reddened.

Both her brows shot up and the edges of her mouth twitched as she pulled out of his grasp. “I’m in charge of who drinks and who doesn’t.” Her tone turned authoritative, and it took him off guard. Apparently, she really was cutting him off.

She walked toward the water pitcher and returned a moment later with a glass. Without a word, she set it in front of him, then turned and started walking toward a new group of customers.

“That’s not what you said,” he called after her.

She stopped and turned her head to face him. He was immediately taken aback by her full, pouty mouth. Something in her glare suggested she hadn’t been kissed in a while. Perhaps it was the way she tried to purse her lips, how the lower one subtly quivered until she finally bit it. Nice. He raised his brows suggestively.

"Prove it," she said, and walked away.

Not too friendly after all, that one. Couldn’t blame her though. He grabbed the book he left on the bar countertop a couple of hours ago and opened to where he’d left off. But he only stared blankly at the page, not registering a single word. Why bother. He’d been on the go since getting word that his sister, who’d run away from home fourteen years ago, possibly lived here in Crete. How the hell she’d landed here was beyond him, but such is life.

He thought he found her, too. Waitressing at some downtown café. He hadn’t recognized her at first. The last time he saw her, they’d been teenagers, and she’d been heavily into the Goth movement. Dyed black hair, nose ring, depressing clothes. But from what he observed on the balcony, she looked relatively normal now. Her hair was back to its natural light brown and there were no piercings in sight.

But leaving home at such a young age and living on her own...he shuddered to imagine what she’d gone through to finally earn such normalcy. Nate had traveled all over the world and had photographed some horrific things. He’d seen firsthand what it was like to be poor and desperate.

Giving up on the book, he stuffed it into the pocket of his cargoes. Amazing to think he had nobody – no home, no parents, no family. All his hopes were pinned on Lexie, his rebellious, runaway older sister, accepting him into her life.

Tomorrow, he planned to confront her for the first time in fourteen years.

Looking up, the sexy bartender sauntered toward him, hips swaying, eyes sparkling. Laughing. Warmth flooded him.

She rested one hand on her denim-clad hip. “How’s your drink?”

“Mmm. It’s fantastic. Thanks.”

“I aim to please.”

Her wicked smile melted him. Teased him. Transported him from the stress of his life and worry over his sister. “You really should join me. What time does your shift end?”

“Right. Maybe when I have time, I’ll tell you about the resort’s non-fraternization policy.” She smirked, but her gaze was playful. She wanted to join him. He knew it.

With a toss of her head, blonde hair fell in waves around her shoulders, framing her features in an angelic way. And she smelled amazing. “You smell like suntan lotion,” he said.

She head fell to one side and she looked at him like he was crazy. Had he just said that? “I mean, damn. Sorry. But you do. You smell like suntan lotion and it reminded me of something...”

Her expression softened. “What?”

Ah, bartenders. The entire world told their troubles to them. But he wasn't interested in sharing any secrets. No matter how nice this bartender was. Yet he felt he could tell her anything. “When I was a kid. In Brisbane. My family was always broke, so we went to the beach together. Almost every weekend.”

Leaning over, she rested her elbows on the bar as she slid her left hand along her right forearm. Her full lips extended into a kind, warm smile. “You grew up poor?” As she asked, she began to fidget with the intricately carved charms on her expensive-looking bracelet.

He nodded. Family. This woman was intoxicating, and he needed to focus on just that – bringing the broken pieces of his family back together.

But more importantly, he needed to resist a one night stand, or even a quick fling, with the one woman who could possibly be an important link to his sister. From what he saw on the balcony, the women were obviously friends, and if Lexie didn’t accept him back into her life, he’d need reinforcements.

“Hello?” Charms jingled as she waved her hand in front of his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I should go, though. I have a busy day tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Disappointment flashed in her gaze. “Okay.” She pulled a white slip out of her pocket and set it on the bar. “Here’s your tab. Sign the bottom and leave it for me.”

She sauntered off. She’d definitely flirted. Any other time, he would have gone for it.

Without reading the tab, he signed the paper, wrote in a generous tip, and dragged himself off the chair. As he headed toward his room, breathing in the night air, he found his balance. Okay, so maybe he was slightly intoxicated.

How did a girl like that land here? Beautiful, American. And not a poor girl, either. His early career in fashion photography taught him a thing or two – he could spot expensive clothes and jewelry a mile away.

Coolness struck as he entered the suite. He hadn’t even realized how sweltering the night air had been. Or was that the after-effect of an evening with his hot bartender?

Despite growing up in Australia, air conditioning bothered him. He turned the switch to “off,” walked to the patio and opened the sliding glass door. Breathing in the ocean air, he allowed his eyes to adjust and focus on the dark blue horizon. Tomorrow, he’d return to Spiro’s and confront Lexie.

Tomorrow, his life would change forever. Was he ready?