By Invitation Only by Lori Wilde, Wendy Etherington, Jillian Burns

couldn’t make it. He risked a glance over at Olivia and she was sliding underneath the pole like hot syrup. How the hell did she do that? The woman was as limber as a noodle. Who would ever have thought it?
    He had to keep up. He wasn’t going to let her get the best of him. He took a deep breath, marshaling the strength of his quadriceps to keep him aloft while at the same time easing his body forward. He wasn’t going to make it. He was going to hit the pole and disappoint her.
    “How low can you go?”
    That DJ was seriously getting on his nerves.
    “Nick be nimble,” Olivia sang, changing the lyrics of the song to suit the situation. “Nick be quick.”
    Quick. That was it. He was moving too slowly. He needed to speed up, get under that pole as fast as possible.
    Olivia was already through, on the other side waiting for him. The crowd started clapping in time to the rhythm.
    With one last spurt of energy, he pushed his body clear of the pole. Then, exhausted, he collapsed onto his back, while simultaneously reaching for Olivia and pulling her down with him.
    “Wow,” she breathed as she gazed into his face. He wrapped his arms around her to the sound of the cheering crowd. “I had no idea you were that limber.” She echoed his words back at him.
    He looked her square in the eyes and in a deadpan delivery said, “Fifteen years of mattress yoga.”
     
     
    I T WAS NOT A CHARMING THING to say, but it didn’t matter. Olivia was charmed.
    All she could think about was how flexible he was and what dynamite physical chemistry they had going on between them. If she’d ever wanted a no-strings-attached sexual fling, now was the time and Nick was the perfect person to indulge with.
    I want, I want, I want. Her body throbbed.
    What the hell? Why not? They were sharing a bungalow. No one would ever have to know they slept together. One gloriously naughty weekend and then they could go back to their ordinary lives. Nothing would change.
    “Nick, do you want to get out of here?” she shocked herself by asking.
    “Honey,” he said, “I thought you’d never ask.”
     
     
    T HE GROUP ENDED UP MERGING their bachelor and bachelorette celebrations into one big bash. In the midst of it, Nick and Olivia wandered toward the beach. No one seemed to notice them slipping off. The sound of island music followed them as they walked and mingled with the whispering rush of the ocean. Wind stirred the palm fronds, ruffling Olivia’s hair. The moon cast her profile in shadows, softening her features.
    Nick reached out to take her hand, surprised by how much he wanted to touch her in this simple way.
    She didn’t withdraw as he feared she might. Instead, she allowed him to interlace their fingers. The charm bracelet around her wrist fell against the back of his hand. He fingered the charms one by one, five in all—a pencil, a computer, a quill, a parchment scroll and a miniature Pulitzer medal.
    “I’ve never seen you without this bracelet on,” he said.
    “College graduation present from my grandfather. It’s the last thing he gave me before he died.”
    “It puts a lot of pressure on you.”
    “What?” She seemed startled. “No. It’s my touchstone. Keeps me on my path.”
    “Is it your path? Or is it the path your family set you on?”
    “It’s the same thing.”
    “Is it really?”
    “Yes,” she said staunchly, after a split-second hesitation.
    He let the topic drop. The night had been magical and he didn’t want to stir her up. He squeezed her hand as they walked and she squeezed back. Nick couldn’t remember the last time he’d held hands with a woman. Had he ever held hands with a woman?
    She was humming the limbo song under her breath.
    “You’re relaxed,” he said. “It looks good on you. I get the feeling you never let your hair down.”
    “I don’t much,” she admitted.
    “I like the mellow Olivia. You should let her out of the sweat-shop every once in a while.”
    “I’ll take that under