Macy Beckett - Make You Mine

Back to the drawing board.

After a few minutes of brainstorming, he decided to wait until six in the morning, then grab some coffee and sit in the lobby to watch for her. All the elevators in the complex emptied into the lobby, so sooner or later she’d have to cross his path. It wasn’t the best idea, but he couldn’t come up with anything better. Tossing his impromptu cold pack into the ice bucket, he reclined on the bed to rest his eyes for a few moments.

When Marc opened his eyes again, sunlight streamed through his windows so brightly he cringed and raised a hand to block the assault. The thick haze of slumber began to clear, and he bolted upright in panic.

Oh, shit! How long had he slept?

His head ratcheted toward the alarm clock, where a red digital display told him it was almost noon—a full six hours later than he’d planned to camp out in the lobby.

“Son of a bitch.”

Marc sank against his pillow while mentally smacking himself. He should have played it safe and set the alarm. Allie could be anywhere by now, maybe even off the resort.

So much for that idea.

Still cursing his own name, he sprung out of bed. Marc didn’t have a plan, but since he wouldn’t find Allie in his suite, he freshened up and headed downstairs to explore the resort. His head didn’t hurt anymore, so at least one thing had worked in his favor today.

He began his search at the indoor restaurants and gift shops, then scoped out the casinos and swimming pools. He struck out everywhere. By the time he reached the athletic complex, he began to lose hope of ever tracking her down in this mini-metropolis. What if she’d taken a tour of the Hoover Dam? Or gone shopping on the strip? The possibilities were endless.

Marc plopped down on a lobby sofa and cradled his head in both hands. Why was the universe making this so difficult? Hadn’t he demonstrated enough faith to prove that he deserved another chance with Allie? He expelled a frustrated breath and glance down at his feet.

That’s when he noticed that Rick’s business card had fallen from his pocket. There on the pristine marble tile, a cartoon nutria grinned up at Marc and gave him an idea.

A crazy idea. An utterly ridiculous idea.

But the more he thought about it, the more he found himself smiling. If this didn’t get Allie back in his arms before her vacation ended, nothing would.

Allie yawned and stretched, blinking awake gradually to the hum of an air conditioner instead of the screeching of an alarm clock. It was a nice change. The sun was visible as a faint halo of light along the edges of her room-darkening shades. She lifted her head only enough to check the clock, then lay down again, smiling. The last time she’d slept until noon was the summer vacation before senior year.

I could get used to this , she thought. Wonder if Devyn’s up .

She sniffed the air and noticed a light aroma of roasted coffee beans mingled with something sweet—pancakes or waffles. Allie rolled out of bed, tugged down her polka-dot nightgown, and shuffled into the living area, where last night’s room service tray had been replaced by a cart bearing fresh fruit, whipped cream, and a stack of Belgian waffles.

“Nice spread,” Allie said to her sister, who lounged by the window, sipping coffee.

Devyn lifted her mug. “Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty. It’s about time you graced the world with your presence.”

“Don’t blame me,” Allie said. “Someone kept me up until the wee hours of the morning watching Under the Tuscan Sun .”

Dev sighed dreamily and pressed a hand to her chest. “I love that movie. I think our next vacation should be to Italy.”

“Then start saving your pennies.” Allie snuck a peek at the room service invoice. Ouch. “For as much as they cost, these waffles had better make me see God.”

Dev pointed at the cart. “Use an extra dollop of that sweet cream and you’ll hear angels, too.”

While Allie scarfed down a plate of fruit-topped waffles—which really were worth every penny—Devyn fanned out an assortment of tourist pamphlets.

“It’s our last full day of vacation,” Devyn said. “What should we do?”

Scanning the brochures, it became clear their options were infinite. They could go horseback riding, catch an auto race, visit the aquarium, take a helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon, sign up for a rock ’n’ roll fantasy camp, or even go skydiving.

“It’s overwhelming,” Allie said around a bite of waffle. “Just looking at all this makes me want to go back to bed. I’m too tired for an adventure.”

“Then I take it ‘pole-dancing lessons’ are out of the question.” Dev tossed aside that particular pamphlet. After inspecting the options again, she asked, “Want to take it easy today? Maybe hang out by the pool and order froufrou drinks that come with tiny umbrellas?”

The suggestion appealed to Allie. Vacations were supposed to be relaxing, weren’t they? She didn’t want to spend her last day in Vegas working a pole or tumbling from an airplane. “I like it. Besides, I’ll bet time passes slower at the pool.”

“Then the pool it is,” Devyn declared. “Let’s get our bikinis on before we miss all the best rays.”

After donning their bathing suits, they bypassed the family pool—bursting at the seams with shrieking children and bouncing beach balls—and continued to the adults-only area, the one surrounded by tall, noise-canceling shrubs and offering a fully stocked bar. This was the best spot at the resort, and it showed. There were only two reclining lounge chairs left, which they quickly claimed.

Allie and her sister had barely finished spreading their towels onto the chairs when a waitress arrived to take their drink orders.

Devyn pointed to Allie. “Like Garth Brooks said, bring her two piña coladas—one for each hand. I’ll have a Tom Collins.”

The waitress hurried back toward the bar before Allie could correct her sister. “I don’t need two,” she chided. “You’ll have me soused by lunchtime.”

“It already is lunchtime, so consider yourself behind schedule.”

Allie slathered on some SPF fifteen and lay back on the cushioned chair, sighing at the delicious warmth of the sun caressing every inch of her exposed skin. Before long, she had two slushy piña coladas in hand, and she couldn’t deny that this was as close to paradise as she was ever going to get.

“We chose well,” Dev said, turning onto her belly and unfastening her bikini strap to avoid the dreaded tan line. “This is way better than pole-dancing lessons.”

“I’ll drink to that.” And Allie did.

But as the tranquil minutes passed with nothing to distract her, Allie’s thoughts crept dangerously toward Marc and what he might be doing right now. Did he miss her? Had he tried calling, and if so, did he wonder where she’d gone?

She doubted it. He probably didn’t even know she’d left town.

Her heart grew heavy as she peered around the pool at the happy, hand-holding couples, some of them leaning in for occasional kisses. She wanted that same contentment for herself, and she had a feeling all the fruity alcohol in the world wouldn’t dull the ache building inside her.

What was she going to do when vacation ended and she returned to New Orleans? If she saw Marc with another woman it would kill her. And eventually it had to happen.

The devil on Allie’s shoulder whispered that she could go to Marc and take whatever he was willing to give, but she shook her head and cast out the tempting idea. Yes, she missed Marc, but the pain would deepen the longer she stayed with him. If he wasn’t willing to share his whole heart, she had to stay away.