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Mitchell sipped his beer and cocked an eyebrow at him. “Seen much of the land of Oz?” he asked as though reading Zach’s mind.

He felt the back of his neck heat with embarrassment. “No,” he admitted. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Well, there’s more to the Gold Coast than this bar.” Mitch’s smile took the sting from the gentle rebuke. “C’mon outside. I’ve seen you for the last six days and you haven’t hit the beach once.” He rose and walked to the glass doors, not even glancing back to see if Zach followed.

He did, of course. That magnetism he’d been busily rejecting for the last six days was in full force right now. He could no more have ignored Mitch’s invitation than he could’ve ignored gravity.

A blast of heat washed over his skin as he followed Mitch through the doors. His flip-flops sank in the sand. Kicking them off, he dropped them beside the door and let the warm sand bake the soles of his feet. He took a deep gulp of beer, relishing its icy path down his throat, a delightful contrast to the heat of the evening. God, this was fantastic.

Mitch had stopped a few yards away and was watching him intently. The sunset behind him framed his silhouette in fiery colors. The contrast hid his expression. “Nicer than sitting in the room, eh?” he said, then took a swig of his own beer.

“Yeah, it’s fantastic.” He crossed the distance between them and stopped beside Mitch. The sound of the surf, the seagulls, the laughter and chatter of the sunbathers… It was everything he’d imagined when he’d planned this trip, only a thousand times better. He dropped his head back and took a deep breath, then stumbled a little when his head spun. “Whoa. Think those beers just hit me.”

Mitch nodded, taking another sip from his bottle. “So, Zach from LA, why are you spending Christmas in my bar instead of out here on the beach, ogling the scenery?” He gestured with the bottle, indicating all the bikini-clad beauties taking advantage of the last of the day’s sunshine along the beach.

The question should’ve sobered him up. Instead, Zach sat down on the sand and sighed with pleasure at the warmth seeping through his shorts. Mitch had led him a fair distance away from the noise of the crowd and Zach soaked in the peace. “If I never see another woman again, I’ll die a happy man,” he said, ignoring the scantily clad women and watching the waves slap the sand instead.

“Ahh.”

Mitch sat down beside him and let the silence stretch out. Instead of being awkward, the lull in the conversation soothed Zach’s nerves. The sunset slowly faded before Mitch spoke again. “You know, one of the things they teach us barmen is how to listen to tales of woe. Wanna try me?”

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the calming sound of the rushing surf or the way the warm sand cradled his body in perfect comfort. Whatever the reason, abruptly Zach did want to talk about it. “My fiancée dumped me three weeks before our wedding. She caught me looking at someone else.”

“Sounds a mite extreme to me.”

Zach took a deep breath and braced himself for this near-stranger’s disgust and rejection, but still forced the words out. He felt as though he had to say the words at least once. “It was a man. Her gardener, how’s that for a cliché? She caught me staring at him and jacking off.”

“Ahh.” That single syllable carried no disgust, no rejection. Mitch didn’t even sound surprised. “I’ve noticed you staring a time or two myself. It’s no fun in the closet, mate. How about you step out for a bit?”