Mr. Fantasy: (A standalone romance)

by Cambria Hebert

  Stepping a fraction closer, I heard the catch in her breath. “I want you to be the one to give it to me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because then I’ll have permission to use it.”

  The echo of similar words I’d spoken to her flashed behind her eyes, momentarily distracting her. The disoriented look reminded me of that night we spent together and how she felt beneath me, making me want to tug her close and not let go.

  Forcing both of us back to reality, Nora retorted, “You didn’t ask my permission to bring me out here or set me up with this condo and a job.”

  Unable to keep my fingers from grazing the side of her hip, I asked, “Would you have come if I’d just asked?”

  Visibly she swallowed, tipped her chin up, and met my eyes. “Yes.”

  A gruff sound ripped from my throat. Honestly, I hadn’t expected her to say that. Lowering until our lips were aligned mere inches apart and I had to fight my eyes drifting closed, I whispered, “Have dinner with me.”

  She jolted slightly, surprised. Stares colliding again, desire danced between us, neither of us moving away.

  “I’m packing,” she finally said, her body still rooted in place. Like I said, I already owned her body. Now I just needed to claim her mind.

  “You can pack later.” Reaching down, my fingers entangled with hers. Leading us back through the apartment, I paused only long enough for her to grab her bag and slip on a pair of flip-flops.

  “Wait!” She gasped when we stepped out into the hallway. “I need to change.”

  Allowing my eyes to roam her body, lingering on her long, bare legs, I made a negative sound. “I like you the way you are.”

  When she didn’t say or do anything, I gestured toward the door. “Lock up.”

  I started down the hall without her, a smile tugging at my lips when I heard her jogging to catch up.

  “Where are we going anyway?” she asked.

  Glancing over at her, I smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s not sushi.”

  “How did you—” She halted in the middle of the hall. “You had someone follow me across the street to lunch?”

  Backtracking, I stopped in front of her. “When there is something I want, I do my homework. I learn the details.”

  “I’m a person. Not a thing.”

  Ushering her onto the elevator, I pressed the button, and we headed down. “There’s a Cuban place around the corner. You game?”

  She didn’t answer, but I felt her stare, so I lifted an eyebrow.

  “At least you don’t deny your stalker ways.”

  “Denying implies I’ve done something wrong. Making sure you’re okay isn’t a crime.”

  The doors slid open, and we stepped into the lobby.

  “Just one meal,” Nora said, as if all this time she’d only been considering eating with me. “Then I’m leaving.”

  She was cute.

  Outside, the Miami heat, traffic, and city noise erupted around us.

  “Cuban?” I asked again.

  She nodded.

  Halfway down the block, I felt her eyes. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “About what?”

  “Me leaving.”

  It took me a minute to suppress the smile desperately trying to grace my face. Tucking my hands into my jeans, I gazed up at the summer sky. “You aren’t leaving, Nora.”

  Her voice turned sassy. “And how do you know that?”

  “Because I’m going to change your mind.”

  Nora

  “Have you eaten at all today?”

  I glanced up from my plate, pausing around the mouthful of food filling my cheeks. “It’s really good,” I replied, going back to chewing.

  Carter’s deep chuckle floated across the table, making my stomach dip a little. He was incredibly easy on the eyes. After our night together—you know, after I left the fantasy, boarded a plane, and flew back to reality—I convinced myself I remembered Carter through a sort of filter.

  And not just any filter. Like the good one. The one you always went for when you needed to make your selfie look really hot for social media.

  I recalled Carter in almost a surreal way, dreamlike. Everything about that night we spent together was almost too good to be true.

  Just like this internship…

  Maybe I’d only built up that night in my mind because it was so fantasy-like. I was remembering him as better than he actually was.

  That was a lie.

  Looking at him now, sitting across from him in a wooden booth with a single light hanging over our table, it was all too obvious that Carter was every bit as handsome as I remembered. I didn’t have to build him up in my mind because he didn’t lack at all.

  I couldn’t believe I was here with him right now. Giddiness swam around inside me, making me want to giggle at the most inappropriate times. Occasionally, he would look at me, and my pulse would race. I’d honestly never felt like this before. So… bewitched by someone.

  “Eat up.” He encouraged, spooning some of the shredded beef from his plate onto mine.

  Staring down at the meat, I was oddly touched. “But this is yours,” I said, not even meaning to speak.

  “If my woman is hungry, I’m going to make sure she eats.”

  There it went again. My heart galloping wildly.

  “But I’m not your woman.”

  In response, he spooned more of his food onto my plate. “Eat. You look skinnier than you were on spring break.”

  I went back to eating, scooping up the ropa vieja and taking a big bite. Pleased, Carter grabbed up his bottle of beer and lightly clinked it against my mojito before taking a long sip.

  “I thought you lived on the island,” I said after a few more minutes of just eating.

  Setting aside his fork, Carter gazed over the table. “I do. I just work in Miami.”

  “That seems like an awfully long commute,”

  He smiled. “I take a helicopter.”

  Surprise had me gulping in air, and with it, rice lodged in my throat, making me cough. Fork clattering against the plate, I bent toward the back of the booth, still hacking, desperately trying to stop.

  Warmth settled against my back, and I shot up, leaning against something firm. Still coughing, I looked over my shoulder, where Carter sat close. The coughing continued, and frankly, I considered never eating rice again.

  One strong arm wrapped around my shoulder from behind, pulling me against his body. Over the other shoulder, a water glass appeared, heading straight for my lips.

  “Drink,” he commanded softly.

  Gripping the glass, I tried to pull it away, but he wouldn’t release it, tipping it against my lips. I swallowed the cool liquid, finally feeling some of the tightness in my throat dissipate.

  Carter set aside the glass, and I cleared my throat. He didn’t pull back, though. He left his arm wrapped around me, dropping his chin on my free shoulder. “Okay now?”

  Nodding, I could feel his chest pressed against my back. His heart was pounding nearly as hard as mine. “You can let go now.”

  His arm tightened, tucking me closer. “No.”

  The hollow place just under my ribcage filled with a thousand butterflies, leaving me slightly nauseous, but not in a bad way.

  Turning my face slightly toward his, I said, “You take a helicopter to work every day?”

  I felt him smile. “I don’t usually come to the office every day. Just a couple days a week.”

  “Oh.”

  Leaning so close his nose brushed against my cheek, he asked, “What’s the matter, good girl? Sad you won’t be seeing me every day?”

  I sniffed. “It doesn’t matter because I’m not staying.”

  Carter pulled back, making me miss the warmth of his body. My plate slid over in front of me. “You aren’t done yet.”

  Dragging his plate from the other side of the table, Carter settled back into the booth right beside me.

  As I sipped my mojito, I glanced
at him from the corner of my eye.

  With a sigh, he put his fork aside, grabbed my glass, and pushed it away. Picking up my fork, he stabbed at some food and held it to my lips.

  Once I was chewing, the full weight of his dark eyes settled on me. “I put you in a hard place.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t think about the position you would be in when I brought you on as an intern.”

  My knees grazed his leg when I turned toward him. “I still don’t understand why you did that.”

  “I told you. I want you here.”

  “But why?”

  He considered the question while taking a pull of his beer. When he was done, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Because one night with you wasn’t enough.”

  I started coughing again.

  Making a disgusted sound, Carter picked up a napkin and dabbed at my mouth. “Are you like this every time you eat?”

  I tried to push his hand away, but he evaded and continued to clean me up. When he was done, the water was back in front of me.

  Obediently, I took a drink, then made a face. “Why do I always do what you tell me to do?” I muttered, disgruntled.

  “Because instinctively, you know I’ll take care of you.”

  Why did he keep saying things like this?

  “Carter.” My voice was firm, and the glass made a thud on the tabletop.

  His hand slid over mine. Glancing down, I marveled at how much larger and deeper in skin tone he was.

  “Finish eating. Then we’ll talk.” He cajoled.

  “Promise?”

  Lifting both our hands, he made an X over his heart. “Cross my heart.”

  Feeling playful and maybe a little high because he was so close, I lifted his fork, offering him a bite of dinner. Glittering dark eyes held mine when his lips parted and he allowed me to feed him.

  We sat there side by side, his leg pressed along mine, finishing our meal in comfortable silence. Every time he glanced at me, I had to remind myself not to get lost in the fantasy again. There was no place for that in reality.

  * * *

  By the time we stepped out of the little Cuban place, the sun was fast asleep. However, it seemed Miami was just waking up. The Miami nightlife had a pulse of its own, reminding me I wasn’t in Georgia anymore.

  “Is it like this every night?” I asked.

  He nodded, then added, “It’s way busier on the weekends.”

  “Val would love it here,” I mused, gazing at all the lit-up places.

  Blurred movement came out of nowhere, and a loud whizzing sound filled my ears. Before I could register what was happening, Carter snaked his arms around me, pulling me out of the way while turning at the same time.

  Breathless and clinging to him, I glanced around as a man on a bicycle flew by, swerving all over the sidewalk.

  “Damn drunks,” Carter muttered, disgusted.

  Realizing I was still in his arms, my eyes turned up. The nightlife seemed to fade into the distance as Carter became the focus of my entire universe. Living the moment in slow motion, every nuance of every thing he did next seemed drawn out and that much more palpable.

  Cupping the back of my head, Carter dragged his hand down the length of my ponytail while sweeping a concerned, focused stare over my face. “You okay?” he asked, settling his palm against the side of my neck.

  Glittering eyes pulled away from me, narrowing on something behind me while his full mouth pulled into a taut line.

  “Did he hit you?” he demanded, turning all attention back to me.

  How could he when you put your body in front of mine?

  “I’m fine,” I answered, still feeling the weight of his palm against my neck. His thumb stroked the underside of my jaw, turning all the concern in his gaze into something much more intense and enticing.

  Slowly, his face lowered toward mine. My heart was out of control, my lungs burned because, apparently, I wasn’t breathing, and the palms of my hands were starting to sweat.

  When I turned my face to the side, his lips grazed my ear instead of my lips.

  “Ooh!” I exclaimed, taking notice of the place nearby. “What’s that?”

  Dropping his hands and stepping away, Carter rubbed the back of his head while following my pointed finger. “It’s a margarita bar.”

  Loud music spilled out of the open door and windows, mingling with the sound of rowdy customers and clinking glass. Curious, I went to the door, peeking inside.

  My mouth dropped open.

  Off to the side, Carter reached around and pushed my mouth closed.

  “Are those slushy machines?” I was in awe. Behind the bar, there were giant machines with round clear windows showing off the swirling colorful drinks that looked exactly like the ICEE’s you could get at a 7-11.

  “That’s the margaritas,” Carter replied, amused. Leaning down beside my ear, he taunted, “Those are slushees with alcohol… nothing for good girls like you.”

  His grunt was mildly satisfying when I elbowed him in the stomach. Leaving him there to lick his wound, I strode right inside the crowded place, weaving through the people to make my way to the bar.

  Slipping into a free space at the counter, I watched the five different machines churn the margaritas, making the wall look like a rainbow. Bartenders were filling up clear plastic cups with the drinks and slinging them to waiting customers. Beer bottles were also being served up from the coolers I assumed were beneath the bar.

  A body slid up behind me, and an arm came around my waist. It didn’t scare me because I knew who it was. My body recognized him without even trying.

  “What color do you want?” he asked over the music and the crowd.

  “Blue,” I yelled, then changed my mind. “Wait! Purple!”

  Carter ordered the drink from one of the female bartenders passing by, then handed over some cash as the cup was slid across the bar.

  Excited, I held it out to look at the bright-purple shade before giving it a try.

  Laughing, Carter slid a straw into the slush and guided it toward my lips. “You better be careful.” He warned me. “These are strong.”

  The frosty, thick liquid slid up the straw, bursting over my tongue. Sweetness filled my mouth, and a pleased feeling made me dance a little. “It’s grape!” I announced, finally releasing the straw.

  The second I did, my mouth puckered and the strong flavor of alcohol hit my senses.

  “Told you,” he whispered close by.

  Turning in the circle of his arms, I held it up for him to try.

  I thought at first he might turn it down, but then his pouty, perfect lips wrapped around the straw, momentarily making me forget about everything else.

  Afterward, he smiled down at me. “It’s gross.”

  Shrugging, I stuck the straw back in my mouth and took another drink.

  “C’mon,” he called, taking my hand, leading me toward the door. Trailing behind him, drinking my grape margarita, I wasn’t paying any attention, so I wasn’t prepared when someone knocked into me from behind.

  Stumbling sideways, I hit the corner of a nearby table and cried out.

  “What happened?” Carter demanded, materializing right in front of me.

  “Someone bumped into—” My words trailed away and all the blood drained from my head when I saw who was glaring at me from over Carter’s shoulder.

  “Well, look who it is,” the man boasted.

  Memories of being terrified in the endless black ocean and not knowing which way was land crashed over me. The cup slipped out of my grasp and would have spilled if Carter hadn’t caught it.

  Rotating, he came face to face with the man that still sometimes haunted my nightmares.

  It was the bartender from the island. The man who’d tossed me overboard when I refused to sleep with him.

  The muscles in Carter’s back bunched, and everything about him changed. Gone was the flirting, almost indulgent man I’d just been with, and in his pl
ace was the commanding, cold CEO.

  “Pretty sure I told you to make sure I never saw you again,” he intoned.

  People standing within earshot turned, sensing an ominous scene.

  Xander held out his arms and smiled arrogantly. “You kicked me out of the Caribbean. I had to go somewhere. Miami seemed like a good enough place.”

  “You just got evicted.”

  “You might have some clout back on the islands, but here in Miami, you have no say.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Carter quipped, his voice even and calm. Why did even that simple phrase give me goose bumps?

  Unexpectedly, Xander threw a punch at Carter, who dodged it with ease. Frustrated, my attacker swung again. Catching his wrist, Carter twisted the bartender’s arm around his back, bending it at an awkward angle. Bent at the waist, Xander struggled and fought, but it didn’t seem to matter because Carter clearly had the upper hand.

  The crowd all around us moved back, giving them room to fight as if they all hoped they would have front row seats to an impromptu brawl.

  “Stop!” I shouted, panic tightening my throat.

  Carter shoved him away, making him fall into a table. Xander pushed up and spun, anger flushing his face. Locking eyes with me, he took a single step forward. “You should have drowned,” he growled.

  With a single, rapid blow, the man folded to the ground, completely unconscious.

  A waitress cut through the crowd and gazed down at the body sprawled at her feet.

  Carter produced some cash, handing it over to her. “Sorry for the trouble,” he apologized, took my hand, and didn’t stop walking until we were around the corner and my building was in view.

  “Let me see,” he murmured, tugging me around to stand in front of him. I stood there, partly dazed, while he checked me over for injuries I didn’t have. Cupping my face, he stared into my eyes. “He’ll be out of Miami tomorrow.”

  I believed him. Carter emanated power, so much it was terrifying and exciting all at once.

  Pulling away, I lifted his hand to inspect his knuckles, which were inflamed. “C’mon.” I started toward home. “I’ll put some ice on this.”

  “I think you’d better kiss it, too.” He tried.