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  "No, okay?" she says, rubbing the towel along the length of her body.   "Because of. . . reasons. "

  "Reasons. "  I get out of the water, and yank a towel out of the basket by the pool, irritated at myself for even messing with this girl.   "You've got reasons.   That's something, Delaney. "

  "I can have whatever reasons I want for not going farther with you," she says, toweling off her hair.   Her nipples are hard underneath the fabric of her bra, and even in the chill of the air my cock strains against the fabric of my boxers.

  Fuck it.   I strip them off, right in front of her.

  "What are you doing?" she asks.   But she looks at me, mouth agape, like I knew she would.   I stand there for a second, before I start drying myself off again.

  "I'm getting myself dried off so I can put my clothes back on and go up to bed, Delaney," I say.   "What are you doing?"

  She sets her jaw, brings her gaze upward.   "I'm doing the same. "

  "I wouldn't want to interfere with your reasons for not wanting to mess with me," I say.   "Since you're trying to keep it professional and all.   I mean, obviously, the large quantities of condoms you deposited in my room were extremely professional. "

  "Damn it," she says.   "That's not what it is at all. "

  I pull on my jeans, sans boxers, and zip them up, while she stands there shivering, her towel wrapped around her.   I bend down to pick up my t-shirt.   "You can take your wet clothes off, Delaney," I say.   "You don't have to worry your pretty little head about me looking at you.   I have no desire to hook up with someone who doesn't want me. "

  Delaney turns around, shimmying out of her panties and bra, the towel still wrapped around her body, as if she has to shield herself from my view because I'm the one who was all over her, completely and entirely unwanted, and she was the one who had zero interest in me.   Like she wasn't moaning into me.   If my fingers had made it an inch further, I know that I'd have found that she was soaked.   I don't know why she's denying it.

  Delaney groans her frustration.   "That's not what I said, Gaige," she says.   "I didn't say I don't want --"

  "Don't worry," I say.   "It's done.   That ship has sailed. "  When I finally finish getting the boot back on, I toss the empty bottles in the trash without giving Delaney a second glance.

  "Fine," I hear her say.

  "Fine. "  I walk out, letting the gate door close, as if I'm not giving her another moment's thought.

  Except that's exactly the opposite of the truth.   Delaney is all I can think about.   I go up to my room to change, now regretting the fact that I just had the guesthouse fake-fumigated, and head to the gym to pound out a workout.

  I just don't get what the deal is with her.   I've never understood her.   One minute she's practically panting in my arms, and then next she's prickly like a damn porcupine.

  I've fucked things up with Gaige.   We were getting along, and then he had to go and kiss me.   Or, rather, then I had to go and strip down and get into the pool with him.   What else did I think was going to happen?  I knew exactly what I wanted to happen.

  But when he was telling me what he wanted to do to me, I froze.   I couldn't help but think about what would happen if I went through with it.   I won't be another notch on Gaige's bedpost.   I can't.   Not with how I felt about him before.

  It's been almost two weeks since I've even seen him, which is pretty much unimaginable, given the fact that we're living in the same house.   At least I think we are.   The tent is off the guesthouse, so I suppose he could have already moved back in.   He hasn't even shown up at the office, not that I expected him to.

  "Hey, Earth to Delaney," Daniel says.   "I said, are you going to go out with him?"

  "Who?" I ask.

  "Who?" he repeats.   "Who is that hot guy who was just talking to us, the one I was basically carrying the conversation with, by the way.   What's the point of even going to happy hour to pick up guys if you're not going to make an effort?  He left you his card. "

  "Sorry," I say.   "I'm just distracted. "

  "No shit.   Distracted by who, is the question?"

  "No one," I lie.   "Maybe the card was for you. "

  "No, that boy – Bennet –" he says, picking up the card and reading the name.   "Is straight as an arrow.   Which is just my luck, too.   But you're in greater need than I am.   You're going to grow cobwebs down there if you don't dust that thing off and get some. "

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  "Shut up," I protest.   "There are no cobwebs growing on my vag, thank you very much. "

  "When's the last time you got laid?"

  "None of your business!"

  "Six months ago," Daniel says.   "Derek.   Did you even have any rebound sex after you broke up with him?"  He looks at me accusingly.

  I glance at the card from the guy who left it.   I can't even remember what he looked like, and it's only been a few minutes since he left.   Daniel is texting on my phone, and he sets it down, looking at me triumphantly when he's finished.   "What?" I ask.

  "Done.   Tomorrow, six p. m.   Drinks here.   With Bennet. "

  "What?" I squeak.   "You can't do that. "

  "Done," he says.   "And you're too polite to cancel.   You need to get out. "

  "I'm leaving for Japan in a few weeks," I say.   "I don't need to date anyone. "

  "No," he says, sipping his cocktail.   "You need to get laid. "

  "You're one to talk," I say.   "How long has it been for you?"

  "Last night. "

  "What?  No way. "

  "Honey, I understand the importance of the one night stand," he says.   "Something you apparently don't. "

  I open my mouth, the incident with Gaige in the pool on the tip of my tongue.   I want to tell him.   Daniel always knows what to do with these kinds of things.

  Shit, I know what Daniel would tell me to do.   He'd tell me to ride Gaige like a cowgirl and then make sure to spill all the details later.

  Bennet, my date, is talking to me over cocktails.   He's cute.   Okay, he's totally hot.   With wavy blonde hair and blue eyes, he looks like he stepped off the pages of a surfer magazine.   Except instead of "dude" coming out of his mouth, it's "y'all. "  The thick Texas twang doesn't make him any less attractive, either.   Except when he calls me "darlin'," and it makes me think of Gaige.

  And Bennet is nothing like Gaige.   He seems nice.   He hangs on my every word, and laughs, and brushes his hand casually on my arm.

  When he touches me, I wait for something to strike – fireworks, electricity, some kind of spark – the way it does when Gaige brushes his fingers along my skin, but it doesn't.   But I tell myself that my ex-boyfriend Derek was the same way – a slow burn, no immediate spark -- but it turned into something over time.   Sort of.   We never really had a lot of passion, even after a year together.   And it didn't exactly end well.   Derek wound up cheating on me with my ex-roommate, so that relationship isn't the best example, I guess.

  But Bennet is sweet.   He seems kind.   Like a Labrador.

  And my mind is drifting the entire time he's talking.   What's he saying, again?  He's asking me a question, and it takes me a minute to figure it out.   He's asking about my work.   Shit, I'm supposed to be talking.   "I'm sorry, I missed that," I say.

  "I was asking about your trip," he says.   "You mentioned Japan. "

  "Oh, yeah, next week," I say.   "I'll be there for a few weeks.   I'm basically being sent to manage my stepbrother, Gaige.   He's a motorcycle racer – you know those sport bikes?  That's what he does. "

  "Sounds dangerous," Bennet says.

  "Japan?"  I ask.   "No, it's the opposite, actually.   It's really quite safe. "

  Bennet laughs.   "I meant the bike racing. "

  "Oh, yeah. "  I roll my eyes.   "Especially when you like to pull dumb stunts the way Gaige does. "  My phone buzzes, and I