Ginevra chuckled. “Well, that’s the understatement of the year. What was it?”
“A gift certificate for a week at a holistic spa retreat in some picturesque little corner of the Big Sur. I think she thinks you deserve a break.”
“And after the way her husband behaved today she would be right,” Ginevra replied. “That was kind of her.”
“Want me to book you in? Your calendar is pretty clear in about three weeks’ time. I can just rearrange a few meetings and badda-bing badda-boom, you’re sitting with your feet up while some hunk gives you a back massage.” Sam paused then smiled impishly. “Sorry, I meant some cute babe.”
Ginevra rolled her eyes. “Yes, don’t project your fantasies onto mine.”
Sam laughed. “Sorry, boss. So, what do you say?”
“I don’t know, Sam…”
“Oh, come on, Gina. You deserve it! Even some Alabama senator’s wife thinks you deserve it. And she’s only met you the one time.”
“Do you really think I have the time?”
“I really do. In fact, I would say take advantage of the opportunity and go take another week to visit some vineyards and get properly relaxed.”
Ginevra looked out at the dark, rainy, Washington night and bit her lip. “Okay. You’ve convinced me. Book it.”
“Wahoo,” Sam yowled as she revved the engine. “Look out California, Ginevra Sachs is coming for you!”
“Don’t do that to the car, Sam. You know it’s terrible for the engine.”
“You are the actual worst at acting out, Gina, you know that right?” Sam replied. Nevertheless, she calmed the engine and eased the car out into traffic without any further theatrics, letting Ginevra get back to the debriefing.
Chapter 2
Even though she hadn’t planned on taking any time off in the foreseeable future, once Sam had planted the idea in Ginevra’s head, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. All of a sudden, normal daily tasks that used to be unpleasant but “just part of the job” had become absolutely unbearable, and three weeks seemed like an interminable age.
“See,” said Sam smugly one afternoon, exactly 9 days before Ginevra left (not that she was counting), “you needed a break. Always trust your assistant, Gina. I know what you need.”
Ginevra laughed, leafing through various versions of an upcoming speech. “I knew there was a reason I hired you,” she smiled.
“You hired me because you think my red hair is sexy,” Sam said with an impish grin. “But I’m glad you’ve learned to appreciate me for my other qualities. I don’t just want to be a hot body to you, Gina.”
“Get out of here, Sam,” said Gina, tossing a paperclip in her assistant’s general direction.
“Want a tea?”
“Yes, please. Anything to make this day go by faster.”
Sam laughed, collecting her purse. “‘Oh no, I don’t need a vacation. I’m Ginevra Sachs. I don’t take vacations! They’re for mere mortals!’” Sam twittered in a falsetto that sounded nothing like her boss.
“Don’t make me regret falling for your hair, Sam,” Ginevra called after her ebullient assistant.
“I’ll make it a London Fog!” Sam winked, knowing her boss didn’t treat herself to the rich tea latte very often.
“Thank you!” Ginevra replied as Sam disappeared out the door.
Ginevra looked back down at the speech and made a face. 9 more days, she told herself.
**
Finally the day of her flight arrived. As always, Sam drove her to the airport (later than she’d have preferred) and followed her to the counter, carting around Ginevra’s matching brown leather carry on and briefcase along with her own enormous green purse. Ginevra had always told her that she could carry her own luggage, but Sam took it as a point of pride and Ginevra left her to it.
“Okay, you all set?”
“Yes, mum,” Ginevra smiled.
“You have your boarding pass?”
Ginevra waved the ticket.
“Your reading glasses?”
“In my purse.”
“Sunscreen?”
Ginevra raised an eyebrow.
“Oh right, you and your beautiful goddamn skin,” Sam pouted. Unless she kept herself permanently slathered in sunscreen from May to October, Sam’s pale Irish skin took on a decidedly lobster-coloured hue. “Tanning lotion then, you jerk?”
“In my suitcase. May I go now?”
“Yes.” Sam gave her boss a quick hug and a huge smile. “Have a great time, Gina. You deserve this! And have a whole bottle of wine for me, okay? Something pink and girly.”
“I hate rosés.”
“You’re drinking it for me, remember?”
“Right, sorry,” Ginevra smiled. “Pink and girly. Got it.”
“Okay,” Sam eyed her boss like a proud mother on the first day of kindergarten. “Now go enjoy the hell out of yourself.”
“Bye, Sam,” Ginevra smiled and headed for the gate.
“They just grow up so fast,” Sam sniffed, wiping away an imaginary tear as she waved Ginevra off.
**
The moment Ginevra stepped off the plane, she felt better. Even just in San Luis the air seemed a hundred times cleaner than it had in Washington. It was evening and the sun was simmering on the horizon, but the air was still warm and Ginevra was over the moon.
Ginevra hated driving, especially in places she didn’t know, so Sam had hired her a driver to ferry her from the airport to the resort.
“I specifically asked for a great, big, hulking man so that you wouldn’t be tempted to replace me just because he arrives on time,” she’d told Ginevra, making her laugh. They both knew that Ginevra would never replace Sam, no matter how annoyed she got with her tardiness.
Sure enough, an enormous man in a surprisingly well-tailored suit was holding a card with her name on it when Ginevra strolled into Arrivals. She sighed. So punctual. What a dream.
“Ms. Sachs?” he asked, his rumbling voice void of personality.
Ginevra nodded.
“This way,” he said, leaving her to pull her own luggage. The moment passed quickly and Ginevra missed Sam’s bubbly personality already.
He led her to a sleek black car, a variation on all the other cars in her life, and, popping the trunk, finally reached for her bag. He held the back door open for her and Ginevra caught him ogling her long, slender legs as they disappeared into the backseat. Alone in the back while he went around to the driver’s side, she rolled her eyes.
The drive along the coast was slow, the road crammed with commuters desperately trying to get home and tourists desperately trying to see a few more feet of the stunning coastline. While delays usually drove her crazy, Ginevra forced herself to sit back and enjoy the view, safe in the knowledge that, for once, she had nowhere to be and nothing to do. It was an exhilarating feeling.
Bon Esprit Resort was tucked away just off the beaten path, a little further north than the more famous beaches. Its rambling grounds were perched above a protected cove and included natural hot springs, a rambling English garden filled with sweet-smelling herbs, a small, manicured labyrinth, and an unbelievable view. From the main building, guests could follow a stone path that led down to the private beach, where they could stretch out on wooden deck chairs under the swaying palms or swim in the crystal clear water. For Ginevra it was love at first sight.
She was greeted at reception by a smiling but vapid teen who, if Ginevra had to guess, was someone’s daughter or niece – she certainly hadn’t been hired for her computer or organisational skills. It took her nearly 15 minutes to find Ginevra’s reservation. Eventually an older woman appeared, introduced herself as Sally, and took control of the situation. Quickly settling whatever spreadsheet problem the younger one had been having, she took Ginevra in hand.
“Your room is right this way, Ginevra. If you’ll just follow me?” Sally slid out from behind the desk and led Ginevra down a long hallway, one side of which was all windows with a v
iew of the ocean. “We’ve got you in the sage room – the colour is very soothing. Your assistant said that you would need all the help you could get.”
Ginevra laughed. “Yes, that sounds like Sam.”
Sally unlocked the room and passed Ginevra the key card. “Dinner’s already been served, but we keep light refreshments, tea, and coffee in the dining room until midnight, if you’re peckish. Chef’s made some lovely wild blueberry clafouti today that I highly recommend. Tomorrow we’ll be doing a coastal hike, if you care to join, as well as a special workshop on kundalini yoga. But you have an acupuncture appointment tomorrow afternoon, if I’m not mistaken. Just let me know if you want to reschedule.”
“Thanks,” said Ginevra. “Acupuncture will be just fine.”
Sally nodded. “You’ll love Dr. Cho. She’s truly gifted. Well, I’ll leave you to it. If you have any questions at all, please don’t hesitate.”
“Thank you,” said Ginevra as Sally left her alone in the room.
The sage room was spacious and airy – and painted a very relaxing shade of sage green. The bay window, like all the windows here it seemed, opened out onto a sea view, with a comfortable-looking cushioned seat built in underneath for better contemplation of the waves. The enormous double bed was done in clean, crisp white linens and a door next to it led to a large bathroom with a Japanese-style cedar wood soaking tub under yet another window with an ocean view.
Ginevra didn’t know where to start. She was hungry – did she go for coffee and cake? Did she immediately strip off her business suit and heels and soak away the last few months in the tub? Did she hit the hot springs? Relaxing involved so many choices.
Reminding herself that she had a week here, Ginevra opted for a quick snack and exploration before indulging in a nice long soak in her private tub. Leaving her suit jacket on the bed, she slipped on a pair of comfortable flats, grabbed her phone and keycard, and headed for the dining room.
As expected, the dining room was stylishly but simply decorated, each of its rustic wood tables sporting mismatched bottles with delicate wildflower bouquets – this was California, after all. And, as was to be expected, the far wall was all windows. Ginevra helped herself to a plate of clafouti, some fresh fruit, and a mint tea, and chose a table by the window bank. She was alone in the room.
Sipping her tea, Ginevra tamped down her desire to check her messages and make sure everything was still running smoothly in Washington. She knew that if anything major had happened Sam would have called, but the urge was nearly instinctual. Finish your food, she told herself, and then you can check your messages.
Luckily for her resolve, another woman soon arrived and completely monopolised Ginevra’s attention. She was a little shorter than Ginevra, but very slender, with large black almond-shaped eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across a narrow nose. Her luxurious black hair was cut in a highly angled bob that began at the base of her skull and ended at her collarbone, finished off by short, straight bangs. But the severe lines of her hair only accentuated her delicate features and exposed the stem-like curve of her neck. She was wearing tight black jeans and yellow scoop-necked shirt and carrying a clipboard. She did not look like a guest.
As Ginevra watched, trying to be surreptitious, the woman snagged a banana from the fruit bowl and poured herself an enormous coffee, which she began drinking before even getting to a table. Sprawling in a chair with a sigh, the woman tossed her banana, coffee, and clipboard on the table in front of her and dredged a phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. She didn’t even glance at the view – or Ginevra – and, instead, focussed on her phone, scrolling through whatever she was reading with a frown.
Ginevra thought she was the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen.
After a moment the woman threw her phone down on the table with a disgusted sound.
“Trouble in paradise?” Ginevra asked.
The woman jumped. She hadn’t even realised Ginevra was there. She smiled wryly. “Yeah, can you believe it?” Glancing out at the ocean, she pulled a face.
“Everywhere has its underbelly,” Ginevra smiled. “You want to talk about it?”
The other woman looked tempted, but then she shook her head. “You’re a guest,” she said. “You’re here to relax, not listen to the staff’s problems. It would be pretty unprofessional. Sorry to bother you.”
“Not at all,” said Ginevra. “I work in politics. There are days when I can’t even remember the word professionalism.”
This drew a chuckle from the other woman, but she stayed firm and gathered up her things. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be okay. I should let you get back to the view. I’m Helen, by the way. And thanks. Hopefully I’ll see you around.”
“Ginevra. Gina,” Ginevra smiled. “And I’d like that.” She didn’t mention that she found the view greatly improved with this woman in it.
“Nice to meet you, Gina,” the woman smiled and left. Ginevra watched her walk away, enjoying her pert bum swish in its tight black jeans.
That night, after a long, jasmine-scented soak, Ginevra crawled into her massive bed and lay on her back, enjoying the novel sensation of being completely unneeded. She knew she would be chomping at the bit in a few days but, for the moment, she would enjoy this while it lasted. Idly, she wondered if Helen lived in the resort complex or if she went home every night. She hadn’t seen a wedding ring.
It was probably thanks to these last, drifting thoughts that Ginevra woke up gasping later that night, slick thighs rubbing together as her body searched for release. She’d been dreaming about Helen. They’d been in her bathtub together, the other woman straddling Ginevra, her bird-like torso arching back across Ginevra’s knees as Ginevra slid her fingers deeper and deeper into her. Her angular haircut had been wet and tendrils had stuck to her glistening neck and breast bone as she moaned around Ginevra’s fingers in her mouth. Lying in bed, chest heaving, Ginevra could still feel the pulse of Helen’s hips bucking against hers and groaned. She didn’t just need a vacation – she needed to get laid.
It took a long time for Ginevra to get back to sleep.
Chapter 3
Despite her interrupted sleep, the next day was a blissful haze. Ginevra wandered from early morning yoga to a delicious breakfast, to the hot springs, and then to lunch on the patio in the sun, where she sent Sam a selfie to prove that she really was relaxing. Sam replied with a jumble of indecipherable emojis that Ginevra took to be supportive. By the time her afternoon acupuncture appointment rolled around she felt about as tense as wet wool.
Acupuncture was done in a simple, two-room cabin at the far end of the English garden. The main room had an enormous skylight looking up at the redwoods that lined the far edge of the property. As Ginevra craned her neck to get a better view, the door to the back room opened and Helen appeared.
“Oh,” she said, startled. The she smiled. “Hello again.”
“Hi,” said Ginevra as she tried not to think about last night’s dream. “I take it you’re Dr. Cho?”
“And you’re G. Sachs?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Well, it’s great to see you again. Let’s get you comfortable on the table. If you want to just take your top off and lie on your stomach, I’ll be right back.” Helen smiled again and disappeared back into the other room.
Ginevra did as she was told and lay down on the padded massage table, her head resting on her crossed arms. She heard rather than saw Helen come back in – the door opened and closed and then there was silence for a moment. Curious, Ginevra tilted her head ever so slightly so that she could see over her shoulder. Helen was looking at her in a way that made Ginevra tingle.
“Okay, let’s get down to business,” said Helen, pulling herself together. “Is there anything in particular you’d like me to treat?”
Ginevra propped herself up on her elbows, letting her back arch and exposing the voluptuous curve of her breasts. It wasn’t really appropriate doctor’s office behaviour, but Ginev
ra was feeling provocative. “No,” Ginevra said, using the soft purr that she used whenever she really wanted to get her way. It knocked men out on the spot. “I just want to relax a bit.”
Helen cleared her throat, making an obvious effort to keep her eyes on Ginevra’s face. “Right,” she said. “Well, would you like me to start with some reflexology? It’s like a massage but hitting specific pressure points. A lot of our clients love it.”
“I’m all yours,” said Ginevra.
“Lucky me,” said Helen. The two women caught each other’s eye and Helen gave that same wry smile Ginevra had seen the night before. “Sorry,” she said. “You seem to have a very damaging effect on my professionalism.”
Ginevra laughed low and throaty. “I really don’t mind,” she said.
Helen bit her lip and turned away, opening a pot of oil that smelled of cinnamon and cloves. “Just try to relax,” she said, scooping a fair amount of oil into her palm.
Ginevra smiled and laid her head back in her arms.
Slowly, Helen worked the warm oil along Ginevra’s neck and the base of her skull, her fingertips briefly running through Ginevra’s thick hair in way that made her shiver with delight. Helen’s hands were small but strong and well trained and, as she worked her way down Ginevra’s spine, she found knots of muscle that Ginevra hadn’t even known she’d had. Ginevra could have stayed like that forever, her skin hyper sensitive, her muscles melting under Helen’s touch, her pussy warm and pulsing. Helen used her thumbs to massage along the sides of her ribcage, their tips momentarily brushing the sensitive skin of her breasts. Forgetting herself, Ginevra moaned into her arms, her breath growing ragged.
“Let’s get the needles in you,” said Helen softly, trying to regain control of the situation. Her hands left Ginevra’s skin and Ginevra wanted to cry at the loss. She heard Helen washing her hands and the crinkle of plastic as she opened the first thin needle. Ginevra pouted.
With practiced ease, Helen swabbed the insertion sites and flicked the needles into Ginevra’s muscles so deftly that the other woman didn’t even realise she had needles in her until Helen said, “Okay, all done. Now just lay back and try not to move. We’ll leave them in for half an hour. Most people find they fall asleep right away. Would you like me to put on some music?”
Jack (Secret Revenge #1) Page 62