by Virna DePaul
Despite how serious our conversation had turned in the Jeep, we managed to keep things pleasant and superficial on the rest of the drive to the local village market. Once we arrived, she took her time shopping, and I was content just to watch her, enjoying the expressions on her face, which ranged from delighted when she spotted something she liked and determined when she haggled with the salespeople. She insisted on buying me lunch from a street vendor to pay me back for giving her a ride, and the pollo guisado with ensalada verde and tostones were delicious. Then she asked me questions about my friends and family, like what they might like as souvenirs. Then she proceeded to pick out things for my mother and sister. I bought the jewelry and small paintings because they were cool and my mother and sister would definitely like them, but I couldn’t help noticing that when I reciprocated and asked questions about her friends and family, she waved me off. “I've already picked them up some stuff,” she said with a tight smile. “Thanks, but let’s focus on you.”
As we walked side by side, I was so tempted to reach out and take her hand, but I figured I'd been pushy enough. I'd clearly shown her I was interested. Either she was going to reciprocate that interest or she was going to get the distance she wanted. The next step would be up to her.
By the time we made it back to the Jeep, she was flushed and relaxed. “Thank you,” she said. “You were right. I had way more fun with you than if I’d come alone.”
“I’m glad,” I said quietly.
“Are you tired, or... do you want to drive around a while? Enjoy the view?”
I didn’t take my eyes off her. “I’d like that very much.”
So I drove, stopping every once in a while at a lookout before continuing. We fell into a comfortable silence, one I deeply appreciated. My life was usually so chaotic, filled with medical emergencies and meetings and chatter. I liked that we could tease and banter and converse, but that we could also simply be. Simply shop. Simply drive. And not feel pressured to make small talk.
There was no rush, either. When we found a particularly beautiful spot, we’d just sit and take it in. The challenge for me was in not letting my gaze stay on her for too long, although that was difficult. Her beauty rivaled even the gorgeous natural terrain that surrounded us.
Time passed, and soon the first rays of sunset streaked orange, pink, and yellow across the sky. I watched the light’s reflection on the still ocean waters stretching for miles toward a brilliant horizon.
Carmen-Not-Carmen, tilted her head back against the headrest, facing the gorgeous sight along our silent drive. I kept telling myself that she wasn’t looking at me. She just had to look my way to see the sunset.
And yet I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at her to check. To my surprise, our eyes met and she glanced away. In the dying light of the day, her cheeks reddened.
“See something you can’t resist?” I asked.
She didn’t answer and there was no smile on her face as she faced forward again in the Jeep, no longer looking at the sunset or at me. It made me wish I hadn’t said it. It made me wish I hadn’t ruined the moment with bravado and arrogance. But that was me. That was who I had become. That was Noah Alexander.
But then something occurred to me as I guided the Jeep over the uneven terrain back toward the resort. She thought she knew what kind of person I was, and even though it was clear she was attracted to me and enjoyed my company, something about who she thought I was made her feel compelled to keep her guard up. The same was true with respect to who she really was. She was fine with hanging out, enjoying the market or our drive through paradise, but when it came to giving her real name or talking about her real life, she clammed up. So maybe we could spend time together in a way she’d feel comfortable. In a way that I’d get to know the real her even as I gave her comfort of anonymity.
“I’m not Noah,” I said.
I grinned as her eyebrow raised and she waited for the punch line.
“What?”
“I’m not Noah.”
“You’re not Noah?”
“No.”
“Right,” she said with the kind of voice you’d use to approach a crazy person on the verge of a mental breakdown. “Not Noah, I don’t get it.”
I grinned even wider as I tried to keep one eye on the road and one on her.
“I want to spend more time with you. But not as Noah. And you can be anyone you want to be. What do you think?”
She frowned, so I continued.
“You’re not Carmen, you’re not Samantha, you’re not Ali. But Carmen and Samantha and Ali could be anyone. You’re leaving this island in what…three, four days?”
“Five.”
“Right. Five days. In that time, we could be people we’d never again get the chance to be.”
In the fading light, I could see the way she played my words through her mind as she considered it. Her eyes moved towards me.
“No pasts?” she said, her voice soft.
“No histories.”
“No futures?” she asked warily.
“We could start today,” I said. “From dawn to dusk. That’s it.”
“We wouldn’t be ourselves,” she added, as if she was coming around to the idea. “We could be anyone.”
“Anyone.”
“I could be a divorced housewife from Cleveland who spent my kid’s college fund to escape to this island.”
I laughed. “And I could be a snake expert traveling the world to find antidotes to the most venomous snakes.”
She shoved my shoulder. “I come out with Ohio suburban mom and you hit back with snake charmer?”
“Snake expert.”
“Fine,” she said with a laugh. She bit her lip. “Then I’m a world-renowned heart surgeon who dated a movie star.” Something in her expression shifted when she said it, and I wondered if it had been a coincidence, her choosing to pretend to be a doctor. Was it possible she’d figured out what I did for a living? It wasn’t like it was a secret or anything. Then again, I’d just brought up the idea of leaving our pasts and real identities behind so…
I patted her on the arm. “Much better. Think big. You can be anyone.”
She rolled her eyes. The tiki lamps that lined the resort’s entrance flickered in the distance. We were almost there. I extended my hand out to her.
“So, are we in agreement? We’ll be whoever we want to be until our time together is over.”
And then?”
I could tell my answer was critical to what she decided, and I could also tell the answer she wanted wasn’t one I necessarily wanted to give. But at the same time, it was the answer I had to give. I was at a transition point in my life, one that wasn’t ideal for making any type of commitment to a woman, even assuming this woman wanted that. Which I knew she didn’t. “Then we just go our separate ways,” I said quietly, knowing immediately from her expression that it was indeed the answer she’d wanted. “Whoever we were doesn’t matter, whoever we are doesn’t matter, and whoever we will be doesn’t matter.”
She slipped her hand into mine and we shook on it. “Goodbye, Noah.”
I braked to a stop. One hand on the wheel, one behind her neck, I pulled her into a kiss. Blinded by the wind whipping her hair and distracted by the heat of her palm against my cheek, drowning in her intoxicating scent, I said, “Goodbye, Carmen.”
Chapter 4
Raegan
* * *
“What’s your room number?”
We were standing in the lobby, at the bank of elevators that would take me to my room, when Noah asked the question. Immediately, a thrill shot through my body and my imagination went wild, contemplating what would happen as soon as I told him.
He’ll drag me to my room, ordering me to open the door in a voice thick and husky with lust, breathing against my neck as I fumble for my key, his erection pressing against my ass. We’ll stumble into the room and I’ll reach for the light, but he’ll push me down on the bed and walk to the blinds, pulling them ba
ck, allowing the glow from the resort lights to fall across my quivering body. Then he’ll come back to the bed. His hands, strong and rough, will rip my dress straight down the middle, exposing my breasts to anyone who looked through the windows. I’ll be so wet at the thought of someone seeing him fuck me, knowing I was his, all his…
“Is it a secret?”
As his voice interrupted my fantasy, I blinked, feeling flushed under the bright fluorescent lobby lights. My breath had turned fast and shallow. He stared at me with a grin that told me he knew exactly what fantasy I’d just lost myself in. Dammit.
“Excuse me?” I asked, wiping a hand across my forehead, feeling little hairs stuck to the sweat there.
“Will you tell me your room number?”
His words sounded muffled in my ears, and my brain took much longer to process his question than a brain that had made it through intensive medical school should take to process.
“It’s um…” Get it together, Raegan. “It’s 1613.”
I expected him to place his hand on my lower back to guide me forward or to curl his fingers at the nape of my neck to tug me toward the elevators. Instead, he merely leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Without another word, he left me there, knees quivering.
I was alone.
Wet and horny and utterly alone.
Damn him, I thought as I took the elevator up to my floor. Damn him. He knew. He knew he left me a mess. Damn him.
I was still cursing him as I stood in front of my hotel room’s floor-length mirror.
Then I recalled the day Noah emerged from that narrow frond-covered path in the jungle and stole my breath. I remembered how gentle his hands had been as he’d examined my ankle, and how strong he'd been when he‘d carried me down that mountain.
When I ran my fingers over my arms, I imagined they were his hands. The hands that had led me so skillfully and passionately on the dance floor.
When I let my dress fall from my shoulders and pool at my feet, I pretended he was the one who pulled it off me. That he was standing behind me, devouring my neck, my back, my ass, and my legs with his eyes. I leaned my head back, imagining it was his hands tugging my braid back. Just far enough that I whimpered.
I pinched my nipples. I could practically feel his hot breath raising the hairs all along my body when he whispered: I have something else in mind.
I shoved two fingers inside my soaking wet pussy, hard and fast. Two because his hands and fingers were huge. I pretended his chest was slick with sweat as I leaned back while fucking myself. Eyes hazy and half-hooded, I stared at myself in the mirror, breasts bouncing, mouth open, legs quivering.
I imagined him pushing me over the edge of the bed. Ass in the air, I twisted my head so I could watch myself in the mirror. I added another finger to my thrusts and used my other hand to rub my clit in frantic little circles. I could feel his fingernails dragging streaks down my back. I could feel his pace grow uncoordinated. I could hear his breath become ragged and desperate.
As I came, my knees collapsed, and I sagged against the bed.
I’d wanted him to be there. I’d wanted him to turn me around and plant searing kisses on my chest. I’d wanted him to drag one of his strong fingers along my dripping wet folds, sending jolts of lightning all the way to my toes, and then suck his finger, covered with my essence, into his mouth, staring at me the whole time.
But I’d been alone.
So I cursed him one last time, then whispered his name.
Because even though I’d said goodbye to Noah earlier, even though we’d agreed to pretend to be other people, deep down I didn’t want to. I wanted to be us. Together. I wanted to be the real me. Raegan. With the real him.
“Noah,” I whispered into the dark.
The next morning, I was lounging on my suite’s balcony, sipping coffee and trying to get my desire for Noah off my mind. I tried to distract myself with a bunch of mindless things like playing Sudoku on my phone, reading the newspaper, and watching the people down in the main pool below my room. None of it worked. Every time I closed my eyes all I could see was him standing behind me, pulling my braid, staring at my exposed tits.
The knock at my door was an appreciated distraction from my prison of horniness. I walked past the bed, shaking my head to clear my fantasies.
I opened the door half expecting, half hoping it would be Noah, but it was just a hotel employee. He smiled and held out a large, flat box.
“Package for you, Ms. Reynolds.”
“Who’s it from?” I asked.
“A Mr. Mikael Erikson, ma’am.”
I hesitantly took the box. “Mikael Erikson?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The employee left, leaving me confused. I closed the door and put the box on the unmade bed. It was a white box wrapped in a thick gold ribbon. I figured it probably wasn’t a bomb. And Anthrax usually came in envelopes, right?
With tentative fingers, I pulled at the bow and gently lifted the lid. Underneath mounds of folded white tissue paper was the most stunning gown I’d ever seen in my life, which said a lot considering I used to accompany Oliver to red carpet events. This dress literally made my jaw drop. I lifted it from the box and it fell like liquid gold.
It was a floor-length gown made of layers of the thinnest, lightest gold shimmering chiffon, cut into a deep V in the front, with skinny straps of tiny gold beads leading to an open back that was partially covered with strands of beads that swept back and forth with a light clicking sound.
At my feet, I found a card that must have fallen out of the box. Laying the dress carefully on the bed, I picked it up.
* * *
Mrs. Erikson,
There will be a car for you outside the lobby at 5:00 pm this evening. Please wear this dress. And nothing else.
- Mr. Erikson (aka Not Noah Alexander)
* * *
If my morning goal was to push sexy fantasies from my mind, this certainly didn’t help. I read the card again and then reread it.
I knew his last name now. Despite our agreement to be other people—including his new persona, Mr. Erikson—I might be able to find out more about him. Could I Google him? What would I find?
No, I can’t. That wasn’t how this game was going to be played.
If I was going to continue to see him, we had to play by the rules. It wouldn’t be Raegan Reynolds getting dressed up in this gorgeous gown. It wouldn’t be Raegan taking a car to meet Noah. It wouldn’t be Raegan that would make his mouth water at the sight of her.
Mrs. Erikson would do that.
Wasn’t that the whole point? I could be anyone. He could be anyone. And at the end, we’d go our separate ways. No harm, no foul.
At least that’s what I told myself as I walked the beach and then went for a hike close to the resort. When I returned, I fiddled around in my room, watching the clock impatiently until it was four. Then I showered and got ready. I wove little braids throughout my hair and pulled it into a loose chignon at the base of my neck. I kept reassuring myself that playing pretend with Noah was harmless even as I did my makeup, giving myself a shimmery smoky eye. Then I slipped the dress on and immediately imagined Noah taking it off.
The whole time, that little voice in the back of my mind pestered me.
You can tell yourself all you want that spending time with Noah is harmless, but you’re taking a dangerous risk. Already you can’t resist him.
The voice gave me pause.
I was getting pulled in and I needed to stop before I was dragged under. I needed to take the dress off. I needed to stay there in my hotel room and not walk to the elevator. I needed to do something today other than getting in the sleek black car waiting outside the hotel at exactly 5:00 p.m.
But in the end, I didn’t listen. I got into the car, and I couldn’t stop smiling as the driver navigated a narrow road leading up the mountains just inland from the beach resort. Higher and highe
r we traveled. Along each turn, I caught more and more glimpses through the thick palm trees of the early sunset over the ocean.
When the car finally stopped, it was on the tarmac of a small airport high up in the mountains. The jungle stretched out around me, fronds waving in the slight breeze. In the brilliant light of the sunset, the white sands were a pale pink, and the ocean shimmered every shade of yellow, orange, and red. I waited as the driver came around then offered his hand. “Mrs. Erikson.”
“Thank you,” I said as I took his hand. Nerves and excitement battled one another as I caught sight of the helicopter on the tarmac. In front of it stood Noah dressed in a tuxedo. Even from across the tarmac, I could tell his eyes were only on me.
After taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I walked toward him. The vast jungle around me disappeared. The ocean below the mountain might as well have been a puddle. The wide lavender sky above me shrank to a narrow tunnel.
He looked so fucking good. He’d slicked back his hair, and his black tux fit him to perfection, making him look like an ad for Gucci or Versace, standing in front of that helicopter with his hands in his pockets, his eyes dark and seductive.
When I was about twenty feet away, he held his hand up. He didn’t say a word, but I still stopped. I’d never been the kind of girl to take commands from a man, but that one simple motion made my skin tingle. Slowly, he walked toward me. When he got close, he circled around. His hand moved over me like he wanted to touch, but he held back. It looked like it was a struggle, a temptation, a torture. That was my power over him, and I relished it.
“Mrs. Erikson,” he whispered, coming around to stand in front of me, his chest just inches from mine.
I grinned as I looked up at him. “Is that a Norwegian accent?” I asked, eyebrow raised.
“Swedish.”
“Ah. Of course.”
He smiled and held out his arm, which I took. He guided me towards a small table and two chairs set up by the helicopter. A bottle of champagne was chilling in a silver ice bucket, and a platter of fresh, seasonal fruits was laid out among a variety of chocolates. Noah held out a chair for me.