As she watched the band, the conga player caught her attention. His short dreadlocks bounced in rhythm as he played. The muscles underneath the caramel skin of his forearms flexed tantalizingly. His hands danced over the drum, creating a pulsing beat that sang in her blood.

She caught him watching her. Looking directly at him, she danced more suggestively, slowing the movement of her hips.

Sparks sizzled in her blood in a way they hadn't with the useless ex nor when she'd ogled the guys on the beach. Now, she imagined his long fingers dancing over her body, plucking her nipples, stroking her breasts. As she danced, she slid her palms down her sides, imagining he was touching her.

When he smiled, white teeth gleamed in contrast to his toasty skin. She tossed her head so her hair swirled, then she grinned back. His eyes widened and he skipped a beat. He quickly averted his gaze and attended to his drum, but the smile still curved his firm, sensual lips.

Her movements more languid now, she imagined those lips kissing her, starting with her mouth and traveling the length of her body to her toes and working his way up to her pussy.

It was a good thing the band took a break at the end of the song, because she was about to have an orgasm right in the middle of the dance floor. She returned to her table, her skin damp from dancing and her bikini thong wet from her fantasies about conga boy.

She ordered another frou-frou juice drink, and as the waitress set it in front of her, conga boy slid into the seat beside her.

"I hope you don't mind." He smiled, showing a dimple in one cheek. "And, Kalisa, please bring me whatever dat is she is drinkin'," he said to the waitress.

His voice matched his caramel skin, all warm and rich and sweet with a spicy island lilt. His silky cotton shirt, open nearly to his waist, revealed a muscled chest and lean stomach. She wondered it he'd notice if she shoved the fabric aside and ran her hands over his cinnamon skin.

"Not at all." Was that her voice? All husky and ready for the bedroom.

"I am hoping you wouldn't. I'm Daryn, by the way."

As she watched the band, the conga player caught her attention. His short dreadlocks bounced in rhythm as he played. The muscles underneath the caramel skin of his forearms flexed tantalizingly. His hands danced over the drum, creating a pulsing beat that sang in her blood.

She caught him watching her. Looking directly at him, she danced more suggestively, slowing the movement of her hips.

Sparks sizzled in her blood in a way they hadn't with the useless ex nor when she'd ogled the guys on the beach. Now, she imagined his long fingers dancing over her body, plucking her nipples, stroking her breasts. As she danced, she slid her palms down her sides, imagining he was touching her.

When he smiled, white teeth gleamed in contrast to his toasty skin. She tossed her head so her hair swirled, then she grinned back. His eyes widened and he skipped a beat. He quickly averted his gaze and attended to his drum, but the smile still curved his firm, sensual lips.

Her movements more languid now, she imagined those lips kissing her, starting with her mouth and traveling the length of her body to her toes and working his way up to her pussy.

It was a good thing the band took a break at the end of the song, because she was about to have an orgasm right in the middle of the dance floor. She returned to her table, her skin damp from dancing and her bikini thong wet from her fantasies about conga boy.

She ordered another frou-frou juice drink, and as the waitress set it in front of her, conga boy slid into the seat beside her.

"I hope you don't mind." He smiled, showing a dimple in one cheek. "And, Kalisa, please bring me whatever dat is she is drinkin'," he said to the waitress.

His voice matched his caramel skin, all warm and rich and sweet with a spicy island lilt. His silky cotton shirt, open nearly to his waist, revealed a muscled chest and lean stomach. She wondered it he'd notice if she shoved the fabric aside and ran her hands over his cinnamon skin.

"Not at all." Was that her voice? All husky and ready for the bedroom.

"I am hoping you wouldn't. I'm Daryn, by the way."

"I'm Merrie."

He grinned, and she knew what was coming next.

"Merry Christmas."

"Want to guess how many times I've heard that this time of year?"

"Sorry. I couldn't resist."

She laughed. "Most people can't. Especially since it's spelled M-e-r-r-i-e."

"Merrie," he said her name again. The lilt in his voice rolled off his tongue, making her name sound exotic. He grinned and sipped his drink. "Look, I'm going to have to get back to the band. The next set is our las' one. Would you like to hang out together after?"

She paused just long enough so she didn't appear desperately eager, but she had no intention of resisting. "Sure."

"Great." He brushed her arm with his long fingers. Electricity sparked along her nerve endings, setting her blood sizzling.

Good thing she was sitting down or she'd have fallen over from the lust attack. She hoped he was thinking more along the lines of hooking up rather than merely hanging out.

Must be something in the tropical air that had her thinking this way. Normally, she wanted to be friends before becoming lovers. Heat washed over her as she thought about reversing the process. "I'm Merrie."

He grinned, and she knew what was coming next.

"Merry Christmas."

"Want to guess how many times I've heard that this time of year?"

"Sorry. I couldn't resist."

She laughed. "Most people can't. Especially since it's spelled M-e-r-r-i-e."

"Merrie," he said her name again. The lilt in his voice rolled off his tongue, making her name sound exotic. He grinned and sipped his drink. "Look, I'm going to have to get back to the band. The next set is our las' one. Would you like to hang out together after?"

She paused just long enough so she didn't appear desperately eager, but she had no intention of resisting. "Sure."

"Great." He brushed her arm with his long fingers. Electricity sparked along her nerve endings, setting her blood sizzling.

Good thing she was sitting down or she'd have fallen over from the lust attack. She hoped he was thinking more along the lines of hooking up rather than merely hanging out.

Must be something in the tropical air that had her thinking this way. Normally, she wanted to be friends before becoming lovers. Heat washed over her as she thought about reversing the process.