Beyond Paradise

by Barbara Nolan

  He approached him, and a wary smile tilted Sal’s lips as he extended his hand. “Jonny, good to see you.” He snapped his fingers for the bartender. “What can I get you?”

  “Nothing.” He wouldn’t drink the water in this place.

  Sal grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the bar, knocked one out for himself, then offered them to him. He waved them away. As of this afternoon, fixing things with Cheryl meant no more smoking and binge drinking.

  Sal lit up and released two hacking coughs. “This business sucks.” He caught his breath. “I got bartenders I can’t trust. Bouncers shoving coke up their noses.” He hawked up more phlegm and pounded on his chest. “It’s killing me.”

  “I can see that,” Jonny agreed.

  “I heard about Barnett.” Sal leaned in. “Just disappeared, like that other scumbag, Nicky.”

  “Yeah, a real shame.”

  Sal was fishing, trying to figure how much of the street gossip was true.

  “I want to talk to you about a girl,” he shouted above the grainy music, desperate to change the subject. “Cheryl Benson?”

  “Sure.” Sal's dower expression became animated. “She’s here. Works almost every night.” Sal leaned in again. “Her and me had some problems, but we worked it out, and now I give her a cut on one of the rooms upstairs.”

  “You're a real philanthropist, Sal.”

  “A what?” His puffy cheeks scrunched up in confusion.

  “That’s a . . . never mind.” he craned his neck, searching the crowd.

  “I got her working our VIP tables.”

  “VIP tables?” Jonny whipped around. “They must be the ones without the layer of grease and overflowing ashtrays.”

  “Don’t be a wiseass. This may not be like your uptown club, but . . .”

  “Forget it.” He waved his hand in surrender. “Point me in the right direction.”

  Jonny edged his way around the crowded tables, passed a few guys in their Brooks Brothers casual wear, trying to act cool so they could tell their buddies on Monday they’d been to an actual “dive bar” down by the docks.

  The VIP area consisted of a raised platform in the back of the room. It held six tables, and his worst nightmare: Cheryl, in a black micro mini barely covering her ass, and a hot pink midriff top exposing about three inches of her toned abs. He stood close to the wall, hidden in the dingy shadows, and watched. Guys were such suckers. Flash some tit, sweet talk them with a few well-aimed compliments, and they were goners.

  She leaned in close to a beer-bellied guy with a straggly beard wearing a leather vest like a reject from Sons of Anarchy. She was obviously flirting for tips, but when the fat fuck’s big, meaty hand squeezed her ass, he lost it. Eddie said to stay cool, but there was no way this was going down. He stormed over to the table in time to hear Cheryl warn. “You know the rules. No touching.”

  “Fuck the rules,” the lowlife slurred. “Me and Cheryl are friends, right, babe?”

  “Take your hands off her,” Jonny growled as he twisted the guy’s wrist into an unnatural position.

  “Who the fuck are you?” The drunk struggled to stand, but Jonny ratcheted his arm even higher, until he slid off his chair and onto his knees. “All right, all right.”

  He released the guy. His buddies helped him off the floor, and they made a quick departure to the door.

  Cheryl gawked at him, but before she could respond, he had her firmly by the arm. When he stopped at the rear of the club, she walked out of his grasp.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, eyes wide and wild.

  “Taking you outta here,” he shouted.

  “Like hell you are.” Her neck flushed to match the color of her shirt. “Now leave.”

  “Fine, but you’re leaving with me.” He reached for her, but she dodged to the side.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.” She spread her legs in a firm stance of defiance. “And I don’t have to listen to you.”

  “When did you ever?” he huffed out. “Now let’s go.”

  “No!”

  “You’re not staying here in that outfit.” He eyeballed her with her breasts on display, hammering against the thin top with every angry breath. “You’re dressed like a damn hooker.”

  “A . . .” She made little choking sounds. “A hooker?”

  “You heard me.” He waved his hand in the air. “What the hell are you thinking dressing like this in front of these bums?”

  She huffed a sarcastic laugh. “According to the Post, you like that look.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw the photo of you and the blonde on Page Six.” She stabbed him in the chest with her index finger, and he flinched. “It didn’t take you long to move on.”

  “For your information, I don’t even remember her name.” He realized too late how bad that sounded.

  “Isn’t that typical,” she mocked. “Another blowjob in your office?”

  “That’s not what I meant, smart ass. It was an old publicity shot taken over a year ago.”

  “Whatever. But you still can’t tell me what to do. ‘Cause I do what I want, when I want, and I make my own decisions.”

  “And your decisions suck.”

  “Once again . . . I. Don’t. Care. What. You. Think.”

  “Hey, Cheryl,” the bartender gestured and yelled over the pounding music. “The guys over at table five are getting restless.”

  She pivoted on her stilettos and lost her balance. He leaned in to steady her, and the small round service tray she held jerked up smacking him in the face.

  “Damn!” He jumped back.

  “Ohhh, shit.”

  “Is this guy giving you a hard time?” One of the bouncers loomed behind him.

  Jonny blinked and glared at him through watering eyes. “Where were you ten minutes ago when some jerk had his hands all over her ass?”

  “Everything’s fine,” she assured the hulking bouncer, but he still hovered. “We’re good.”

  He threw Jonny a threatening glare and meshed into the crowd.

  “Did I do that?” She zoomed in on what felt like a boulder erupting on his cheekbone. The corners of her mouth turned up as she bit back a smile. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not funny.” He massaged his cheek. “You fuckin’ clocked me.”

  “I’ll get some ice at the bar.”

  “Forget the ice.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I’m fine.”

  She tugged him down the back hall and stopped by the stairs that led to the upstairs apartments.

  “Why are you here?” Her voice quivered.

  “I wanna talk to you, that’s all.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “You seem tired.” He touched her arm. “You shouldn’t be working here.”

  “It’s not so bad.”

  “Not so bad? C’mon, Cheryl, these guys just wanna get in your pants.” Her evil glare forced him to regroup. “Nothing’s right without you.”

  “It wouldn’t have worked anyway.” Her voice tightened, and she slumped with defeat.

  He might’ve believed her if he hadn’t caught the tremor in her shoulders.

  “You’re wrong,” he whispered, grasping her hand and rubbing his thumb against her palm. “I never felt the way . . . I mean, you made me feel things . . .” He blew out a frustrated sigh. “I’m saying this all wrong, but you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I was wrong to push you away.”

  “But you did, twice, and how do I know you won’t do it again?” She snatched her hand away and stepped back. The shadowy lighting blurred her expression, but the single tear that spilled down her cheek broke him. “You can’t run every time things get hard.” Her voice q
uivered. “I don’t want that for myself and I won’t do that to my baby.”

  “Baby?”

  The service tray clattered to the floor, and she bolted for the stairs.

  He stared after her, and by the time his feet reacted, she already had six stairs between them. Fast for a woman in ridiculously high shoes. He reached the landing in time to hear her slam and lock her apartment door.

  He knew it wouldn’t open, but he jiggled the knob with one hand anyway while pounding his fist against the door with the other.

  “Open up,” he shouted.

  “No,” she yelled back.

  He pounded harder and kicked at the bottom of the door. “Cheryl, I’m not playin’ here. Now open the damn door.”

  “No.”

  “I’m telling you for the last time, open this fuckin’ door.”

  The door opened across the hall. “Hey, buddy, shut-up or I’m calling the cops.”

  “Mind your own damn business,” Jonny snarled over his shoulder. “Ahhh, fuck this.” He raised his foot and kicked the cheap door so hard it flew open, splintering at the hinges.

  Cheryl stood in the middle of the dingy room, wide-eyed. “You’re crazy.”

  He stepped around the door hanging half off the frame at an odd angle. “I told you to open the door.”

  “And I told you to go away.” She slapped her hands on her hips.

  “You had to know that wasn’t happening.” He closed the gap between them until they were inches apart. “Now tell me the truth. Are you pregnant?”

  Chapter 42

  Cheryl looked away, but he cupped her chin. “Yes,” she murmured, then flinched away from his touch. “And don’t ask the usual male question, ‘cause it’s yours.”

  “Don’t worry. If you’re pregnant, it better be mine.” He furrowed his brow. “Now tell me everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “Like how long have you known? Have you seen a doctor, and most important of all, why the hell didn’t you tell me before this?”

  “Six weeks, yes, and I don’t know.”

  “We’re not gonna play that game again, are we? After all, this is my kid we’re talking about.” He walked around her to the center of the room, did a half pivot, and frowned. “I can’t believe you’re living here.”

  “It’s all I can afford.”

  He surveyed the windowless room and the battered wooden furniture. Seeing the shabby room through his eyes made her flinch slightly, but it was enough to make him soften his voice.

  “That ends now, ‘cause I’m supporting you.”

  “I have a job.”

  “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? There’s no way you’re wearing this skimpy outfit and shaking your ass for tip money.” He motioned around the seedy room. “And I’m not having our kid coming up poor and running the streets. He’d be hanging out on the docks, getting drunk or strung out on drugs, then end up in the joint doing time.”

  “Geez, that’s a sad picture.” She flailed her arms in the air. “And what makes you think she’s going to be a boy?”

  The room spun, and she listed to the side. He jumped up, and wrapped his arm around her waist, avoiding her abdomen as he eased her onto the bed. “Calm down.”

  “I’m fine, it’s . . .” She leaned her head against his shoulder. The warmth of his body made her burrow in deeper.

  Jonny stroked her back. She shuddered, and his hand froze. “Ahhh, don’t cry, baby.”

  “I’m not,” she whispered into his shoulder as tears scorched her cheeks.

  “Yeah, you are.” He swiped away the droplets with the pad of his thumb, then scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “I mean, how did this happen?”

  “The usual way.” She smirked through her tears not able to suppress the sarcasm.

  His jaw tightened, but she couldn’t resist. Served him right for kicking her out of his life.

  “But we used something.”

  “Not the first night you brought me to your penthouse.”

  “Ohhh, yeah.”

  “And if you remember, it wasn’t once, it was . . .”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  His eyes glazed over and she knew his memories were as vivid as hers. They’d been so desperate and hot for each other, so needy, they fell into each other’s arms. Arms, legs, and everything else. The way his tongue slicked away the pain. His hard body loving her, giving her what she craved. It was the first time in her life she’d truly felt safe.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this before now?” She shivered, and he wrapped his arm around her tighter.

  “I didn’t find out until we were back in New York, and . . .” She choked back more tears.

  “I pushed you away.”

  “Did you ever think of asking me what I wanted?” Emotion made her voice thick. “You didn't trust me enough, didn't . . .” A gasping sob caught in her throat.

  “Don't say it.”

  “You broke my heart that day.” Her voice hitched again, and an agonizing silence hung over them.

  “When I heard that shot go off in Frank’s office it was the same as in Miami. You could’ve gotten shot both times.” He cupped her chin. “But it wasn't just because of the danger I put you in.” He paused. “I pushed you away because you were so fearless. So sure of what you wanted. So sure of us.”

  “Fearless?” she echoed. “I'm scared all the time. Scared of being pregnant and alone. Scared of not being good enough for . . .”

  “No, it's me that has to do better. Be better.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and sucked in a shaky breath. “I want you to marry me.”

  “What?” She reared back.

  “Yeah. Especially now with the baby coming.”

  “Wait.” She placed her palms against his chest and pushed out of his arms. “Is that why you’re asking me, because of the baby?”

  “No.”

  “I’m not marrying you because I’m pregnant.” She stood from the bed. “Or because you feel guilty.”

  “I don't believe this. Most women get pregnant to lock a guy down, and here I am willing to take care of everything, and you’re saying dumb shit.”

  “I'm not most women.”

  “Tell me about it.” He huffed out a frustrated breath.

  The last thing she wanted or needed was his pity.

  “All my life I’ve been screwin’ around with women I don’t care about, and I finally get serious and ask one to marry me, and what do I get?” He stalked away from her mumbling, “So you know what? Forget it.”

  When she moved behind him, his back went rigid, and she heard little choking noises. She jerked him around by the arm. “Are you crying?”

  “No.” He jabbed at the tears and turned away again.

  She never would’ve believed it. He was crying in a strangled, repressed way that touched her heart more than if he he’d been hysterically sobbing.

  She leaned up and kissed the base of his neck. “You really want to marry me?”

  “I already told you that.” He flinched away. “I’ve got everything I dreamed about, but it doesn’t mean shit. And why do you think that is?”

  “Does it have something to do with me?”

  “It has everything to do with you.” He spread his arms wide. “You’re all I think about. You’re the one I wanna be with, and you’re the only one I want in my bed.”

  “You’re the only one I want to be with too.” Her shaky hand stroked his damp cheek.

  He nudged her back to the wall as his lips possessed hers. Their tongues twisted and teased until he had his fill, then he moved to her ear. “Now I’m gonna try this one more time.” His hands closed around her waist, and he pulled her to him. “Will you marry me?”

 
He fumbled in his pants pocket, then flipped open a small velvet box and held it out to her.

  “Oh, Jonny, it’s beautiful.” The brilliant diamond sparkled even in the dim lighting. “I guess you were going to ask me before you knew about the baby.”

  “I think I already said that.” He slipped the ring on her finger and tossed the box on the bed.

  “I’ve never had something so beautiful.” She couldn’t stop staring at the elegant ring and what it represented.

  She trailed her lips over his jaw and down his neck. The soft butterfly kisses made him shiver, and she enjoyed the power she held.

  “My sweet baby.” He caged her to the wall and slipped his hand into the back of her skirt, palming her ass. His other hand pulled at the hem of her tank top and yanked it over her head. “These were beautiful before, but now they are damn perfect.” He suckled her nipple into his mouth.

  They’d definitely become more sensitive with pregnancy because his tongue was sending a spasm of pleasure right down to her toes.

  “I’m probably not gonna stop saying stupid shit, but I’ll always be honest with you and put you first.”

  “I know,” she whispered as she undid the buttons of his shirt, then pushed it off his shoulders, desperate to feel the warm, smooth skin of his chest.

  He pushed his hips to hers until he was melded around her. The rumbling in his chest barely covered the sound of his belt sliding open and his zipper scraping down. “I’m bossy and stubborn, but I love you.”

  He pushed her skirt down over her hips, and it fell past her thighs to the floor. His palm splayed lower until his fingers found her wet center.

  “I love you too.” She gasped as he entered her and set off a pulsing rhythm that sent blood pounding through her ears and blurred her vision.

  “And there’s nowhere I’d rather be than between your legs, feeling your heat and knowing I trip something in you that lights you up.”

  She sighed, as she wrapped her leg around his waist, searching for relief, yet not wanting it to end.