Twice Cherished

by Ava Branson

  “Ohhh, how absolutely awful for you. How will you ever manage?” I deadpanned, fantasizing how many countless millions of people would kill for an opportunity like that.

  He lifted his glass to his lips with a glint in his eyes. “Well, basically, it’ll suck. You know…long, sunny days spent sailing. Diving for fresh conch for lunch. Yeah…I’d feel sorry for me if I were you.” The glimmer in his eyes belayed his words.

  Laughter rolled from my lips, and it felt good to be fully enjoying a lighthearted conversation. I leaned forward and whispered, “Shall I set up a prayer chain for you?”

  He leaned in to meet me halfway and whispered, “If it contains anything to do with you, count me in. I’ll take all the help I can get. All deities welcome.”

  Warm tingles washed over me that had nothing to do with the wine I was drinking, wreaking havoc with what my brain was trying to control and my heart so desperately wanted to feel. I chose to let it flow rather than dissect what it meant. Enjoy the moment and let go of the lurking shadow of doubt.

  Our eyes were still locked on each other when the waitress returned to ask if we wanted another round of drinks.

  “Yes, thank you,” he said, without looking up.

  My cheeks heated the longer he held the gaze. I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat was so dry I needed a swig of wine to get it working again. “So, let me see if I understand this. You would leave your firm in London full-time, or stay there and work remotely with this new business venture, if you decide to go forward?”

  He looked down to where my fingers rested on the bottom of my glass. I jumped as one long, masculine finger traced the length of mine. It sent shivers up my arm and goose flesh in its wake.

  “Truthfully, I don’t know exactly what I want to do. The house in the Out Islands is more home to me than my flat in London. Always has been, so the prospect of living back in the tropics has massive appeal.”

  My other hand lay in my lap, clenching over and over, as his fingers continued to undo me. “That’s a pretty big move, Devin.” If he kept this up much longer, I was going to dissolve in a puddle of want.

  He agreed, seemingly unaware of the effect his touch was having on me. “It is, but I’m ready for a change. I’ve worked hard for what I have, but it’s time for something more. Something more meaningful. Life-altering. Sounds crazy, maybe…but tell me something. Do you believe in fate, or karma…whatever you want to call it?”

  I hesitated, not sure where he was going with this and if I was ready to go there with him. He lifted his fingers from my hand and the sensation of loss was instantaneous. Measuring my words carefully, I said, “I tend to believe things happen for reasons that aren’t always immediately clear. But having said that, I don’t know that it—or whatever the event was—was necessarily fated to happen or we humans just adapt to life’s changes as they come our way.”

  “I tend to agree with you. Yet still…this…” he lifted his hands between us. He gave me a hard look, but with a soft voice said, “I don’t know what to think right now except I want to spend more time with you.”

  My heart hammered in my chest. I’m sure my face reflected my rioting thoughts. I wanted to scream yessss, I want that, too, but a tiny part of me was still afraid. Afraid of what getting close could mean.

  Whether he sensed my uncertainty or felt he’d said enough, he changed the topic. “Tell me something Google can’t. Like what do you do in your off time for fun?”

  I was seriously lagging in picking up the beat. My brain could only handle one massive assault on the senses at a time. “Off time…off time…what exactly is that again?” I kidded. “Well, probably the biggest time suck I’ve had is this adorable little cottage I bought almost, oh gosh…two years ago now, I guess. I’ve been renovating it one room, one board, one nail at a time.” Feeling more relaxed, I rested my elbows on the table and dropped my chin in my hands. “That’s been a wild roller-coaster, let me tell you. I taught myself how to swear in Italian, German, and French just to mix it up a little,” I added at his amused look. “Seriously. I grew bored with swearing in English. It was a nice change.”

  He tilted his head back and let loose a deep laugh. And, damn it, but it was a nice laugh. Its rich sound carried me with it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for that. That would’ve been fun. You’ll have to share those with me because that’s fucking brilliant.” He set his martini down on the table, twirling the two olives skewered in the glass. “Tell me about this house project of yours.”

  Feeling more relaxed by the moment—or was it the wine? —I smiled as thoughts of the countless projects, countless problems, and countless dollars that had gone into the making of my little sanctuary. “Well, you know all these Do-It-Yourself shows you see on TV and how all kinds of things go wrong during the renovations?”

  He chuckled. “I don’t exactly get too much American TV.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I laughed, feeling stupid. “Forgot about that. Well, let me sum it up for you. Whatever can go wrong, does. And in my case, the more expensive the repair or replacement, the higher the likelihood it was going to happen.” I chuckled and sighed. “My own little money pit, but she’s mine and I do love her. And, I’m proud to say I did most of the work myself.”

  He looked appropriately impressed. “I’m not a bit surprised that you could tackle something that big. I’d love to see it. If you’d be comfortable with that…?”

  The thought of Devin in my house sent a tremor of excitement through me. Hadn’t I spent an embarrassing amount of time in the past day imagining him exactly there? Or, more to the point, in my bed?

  I sucked down two long swallows of wine and let the burn stuff my fantasies back into place. “Sure, I’d love to show it to you.” The fire continued through my veins as my whole body began to feel the effects of the alcohol.

  He looked pleased. “You say when. Just give me time to find a housewarming gift.”

  I shook my head. “No, no, no. I don’t need a housewarming gift, but thank you for the thought.” It hit me that I had no idea how long, or even why, he was still here. I struggled to comb my memory to see if somewhere along the line I’d been privy to his plans and had just forgotten in my crazy, hormonal mind. “How long are you here on Mimosa Key?”

  “Good question.” He leaned halfway over the table, looking sharply into my eyes. I caught another whiff of that delicious scent he was wearing and marveled at the silver flecks in his eyes. “How long do I need?”

  “Need?” I frowned, anticipating any coherent thoughts scattering like dry leaves in a hurricane. “For what?”

  “How long will I need to convince you to come?”

  My lungs froze. I didn’t dare breathe in case I’d miss him telling me he was kidding. “To come where?” I whispered.

  He didn’t answer me directly. Instead, he took a slow drink, let it sit in his mouth, then swallowed. “To convince you to come over and spend some time with me.”

  It felt like I walked into a wall I never knew was there.

  Chapter Six

  Devin

  Micki’s brown eyes grew huge and unblinking. No hint registered on her beautiful face what she was thinking. I know I jumped out there fast, but time wasn’t my friend right now. I could move to The Fourway Hotel for one night since Casa Blanca was only able to accommodate one extra night. Plus, I did have to fly to St. Thomas to meet with the charter fleet owners, but I could just as easily fly back here as I could to my house in the Bahamas.

  But somewhere in the last twenty-four house I said, “Fuck it,” chucked common sense, and went with my gut. “Too soon?” I asked. My brain scrambled to find ways to salvage this if I’d totally screwed up.

  She gave a quick shake of her head, glorious silky locks moving over her bare shoulders like waves on the sand. With a mental kick in the ass, I forced my gaze to stay on her face and not the sinfully smooth skin that damn near gave me a full erection every time my eyes drifted lower than her chin.

 
; “Not…exactly.” She had that deer-in-the-headlight look and this would be where a shrewd man would say something like Don’t worry about it or Another time, then. But I wasn’t another man and not one with a lot of patience.

  “I could be wrong, but I think you’d love it. I’ve got a little thirty-four-foot sloop—wait a minute. You still like to sail, right?” Memories flooded me of our one full summer together sailing, sunning, loving, and laughing. Watching her face as salt spray soaked her. The way she tilted her head to find the sun and closed her eyes, drinking in all the elements.

  I’d fallen hard that summer. Every part of my body needed her to feel alive. To breathe. She was my heart, my soul, my love.

  My everything. Until she’d decided I wasn’t hers.

  “God, yes, I still love sailing. I just don’t ever get to anymore. Lack of opportunity and lack of time.”

  She hadn’t said no yet. Encouraged, I decided to build on the fact that she hadn’t been sailing much. “Here’s a trip down memory lane. What happened when we put in at that marina in Riviera Beach one Saturday afternoon in particular?”

  Her brows knit together as she thought. “The marina in Riviera Beach…” she murmured to herself, her eyes roaming the room as she thought.

  “Remember?” I prompted. “We had to wait forever for a big-ass ketch taking its sweet time clearing the channel and the dog that fell overboard and we thought they were all going in after it?”

  Her gaze snapped back to mine, her eyes flashing brightly. “We’d eaten everything we had and wanted more food. And I needed to go to the bathroom and it was down a long, spooky hallway. Oh my God!” She chuckled. “I remember sitting on the toilet, reading the notes people had written on the walls. Didn’t I do one in a German accent? A horrible German accent and some random guy behind you heard me and corrected my pronunciation?” She laughed so hard, tears glittered in her eyes. “And you turned around and he was like this six foot ten behemoth and you were all like, yes, sir.”

  I sure as hell did remember. “I was pretty keen on not getting my ass kicked so, yeah. I played it real respectful.”

  Her hands went to her flushed cheeks. “Oh, good God,” she groaned. “I can’t believe I did that.” She chewed bit her lower lip and gave me an embarrassed smile. “Alcohol may or may not have been involved, as I recall. And you,” she wagged her finger at me. “You taunted me about having to go to a real bathroom for the rest of the day. How it was such a girl thing.”

  That was true. I’d had way too much fun at her expense that day, but Micki Dawson gave as good as she got. The girl had fire…and she’d branded me. “But I told you there was a big body of water right over the side. All you had to do was let me know, I’d slack the sheets and you could go over the side. Hell, I told you I wouldn’t even look.” Just in case it wouldn’t serve me well, I bit back the laughter that threatened to erupt.

  “You were a Neanderthal.” She pretended to pout, but her eyes danced with laughter and her lips—hard as she tried to keep them pressed together and stern, the corners refused and curved up.

  “If it sways you in any way, shape, or form—there’s a toilet onboard this boat and it even has a door,” I added for good measure.

  “Oh my God,” she coughed over a sip of wine. “Considering what you do for a living, I would hope so!”

  Our laughter ebbed naturally and we sat quietly for a moment, our eyes on each other. Each deep within our thoughts. But she still hadn’t said no. “Michaela Dawson, tell me something. When was the last time you did something for yourself on the spur of the moment?”

  Her brows twitched together. “Hmm. On the spur of the moment.” She leaned on one elbow and drummed the table with her other hand. “It’s been…it’s been—”

  “Ding, ding.” I tapped the side of my glass with my finger. “If it takes you that long to remember, it’s been too long.”

  She eyed me speculatively. “It’s been awhile…yes, I guess,” she admitted.

  A growing thread of hope wound its way around my heart. My gut told me I’d said enough. Let her have room to think about it and—if there was a God—have her want it as badly as I did.

  Her eyes darted from mine to out the window as she chewed on her lower lip. “Can we sail while I’m there?” she asked, almost shyly.

  It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to haul her clear across the table and kiss her senseless in front of every fucking person in the restaurant. “Absolutely. As much as you’d like and the weather allows.”

  “I’ll—think about it. Maybe we could talk about it tomorrow?”

  Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. Actually, that wasn’t true. Our dinners couldn’t come soon enough because I had every intention of having Micki in my arms before the night was over.

  Believing I’d given her enough to think about, it seemed wise to keep dinner conversation to the more neutral side. Our dinner plates arrived with tendrils of intoxicating fragrances of expertly prepared gastronomic delights teasing our senses.

  “If this tastes as good as it looks, I’m in heaven,” I said, lifting my glass in one final, and less emotional, toast. “Here’s to the lobster we may catch, the fish we may fry, and the wind slapping in the sails.” I studied her face. “If you come, of course.”

  She clinked her glass to mine with eyes that glittered with thoughts I could only guess at. “That’s a hard offer to walk away from.”

  I took a long swallow of martini to let the smooth taste of vodka slow me down from pressing too much, too fast. “Tell me how your folks are doing.”

  The remainder of the conversation as we ate revolved around catching up on family and the changes in the small town we used to live in. Easy, relaxed, comfortable. Yet a fire burned just beneath the surface that kept my groin tight and my body aching to feel hers underneath me.

  Our meals finished, desserts refused, I paid the bill and looked out over the Gulf. “I propose we walk down the beach for a bit. That sunset won’t last too much longer…unless you need to get home. I know you’re working tomorrow, but I also know you didn’t get a full night’s sleep.” I waited tensely because this was the part of the night I’d been waiting for. A chance to be alone with her in this gilded setting.

  She turned her face to look out the window toward the brewing sunset, the warm colors casting another-worldly glow on her face through the tinted glass before she smiled back at me. “I’d love to.”

  Not for the first time I wondered what my life would’ve been like if I’d only fought for her. Tried to hold on tighter. Battled for a second chance. You didn’t know how to fight for her, you dickhead.

  I was going to now.

  We set off down the path that took us straight to the sand. Bending down, she slipped off her sandals, hooking her finger through the straps. I was rewarded with an unobstructed view of her delectable backside as she bent over. I’d never been envious of fabric before but the way it caressed and outlined her curves…my cock throbbed to feel that part of her pressed against me.

  The sun had just kissed the horizon and it wouldn’t be many minutes before it slipped entirely from sight, leaving the rich purple and orange brushes of light behind until night came fully. I reached for her hand and she let me take it as we walked without speaking toward the water’s edge. We stopped when the gentle waves almost kissed our feet. We stood still and watched as the glowing fireball made its final descent beyond the horizon and twilight filled the sky in its place. The gentle, rhythmic wash of waves filled the air as the steady breeze off the Gulf passed over our bodies. We stood together, without a word and it felt…right. Like anything was possible. And, indeed, I was beginning to believe that was so.

  “This never gets old,” I murmured.

  She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “Not something you see often in London?”

  I chuckled. “No, no, I sure don’t.”

  We continued to watch until the last amber fingers faded into deep purple. “S
o beautiful,” she sighed. “I need to remember to take the time to watch this now and then. I get too busy and forget these are the parts that make life richer, don’t you think?”

  What I thought was how much time I’d missed not having her in my life. How many sunsets we could’ve shared. Begun a family. “Yes, I think that, too.” I reached for her hand. “Come on. Let’s walk off some dinner.” We made our way down the beach in comfortable silence for a bit, our feet sinking into the soft, cool sand. A few couples walked a good distance from us, but we had this part of the beach relatively to ourselves. Every step made me hungrier to taste her lips, and I didn’t know how much longer I could last without pulling her into my arms.

  The answer was…not long. I pulled up short; she took another step ahead before stopping and turning to look up at me.

  “Micki.” I reached for her other hand bringing her up close to my body. She smelled warm and spicy, like jasmine, lavender, and vanilla. As intoxicating as any liquor. “If you don’t want to be kissed, pull away now.” I held my breath…waiting for the movement and the rejection I half expected to get.

  She didn’t move. Still, I held off. “There’s so much I want to talk about. So much I want to learn, and I know this is fast, maybe too fast for—”

  She reached up, cupped her hands behind my head, hauled my face down, and kissed me. I froze for a nanosecond before pulling her tightly against me and capturing her head with one hand, pressing the other in the small of her back. Tilting her to the angle I wanted, I deepened the kiss, instantly on fire for more.

  Her soft moan vibrated against my mouth and I pulled away slightly. “Did you just kiss me to shut me up?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said softly, her eyes leveled on my mouth. “If I did, what would two kisses mean?”

  “I’d be closer to heaven.”

  She lifted her eyes to meet mine, her smile both soft and erotic at the same time, which only fed the boner that was currently pressed against her belly.