“I can't…that little thing? Wow,” Cash said, laughing so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes.
“Bostons are known for being gassy. I'm sorry, I should have warned you,” I gasped, bending over at the waist as I howled with laughter.
Who needed a chaperone to cool you down when you had Hank?
Cash leaned companionably next to me at the counter, turning to look at me.
“So, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” he asked, his eyes hooded, his voice husky with lust.
“Hold up,” I said, bracing my hand on his chest.
“Jeez,” I said, distracted by the hard muscles under my palm. I started to trace my hand down his chest to his abs and then froze.
“Whoops, sorry.”
“Go ahead and explore,” Cash said, his smile wicked.
I backed up and crossed my hands behind my back.
“I shouldn't. We shouldn't. Lord do I want to go upstairs with some chocolate sauce for dessert, but we shouldn't. Not yet. I need time,” I heard myself saying, even though my body screamed its protest.
“You say no, but that dessert idea sounded pretty damn good,” Cash said.
“Sorry, I blurt things out when I'm nervous,” I said, backing up another foot. I may be stupid sometimes, but I'd had enough warning signs this week that something bad was about to go down. For all I knew, Cash was a part of it.
Hell, it could even be about Cash and me.
Knowing it was best to not get too involved quite yet, I smiled up at Cash.
“Rain check?”
Cash moved in and slid his hands to my waist, pulling me until I was pressed against his hard length. I gasped but couldn't help running my hands up his arms to wrap around his shoulders.
“I'm going to hold you to that,” he said against my lips before kissing me until I almost – almost – said screw it, meet me upstairs in five minutes.
I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't shaky after he stepped away and strolled casually to the front door, calling goodbye to Hank, taking all of his power and heat with him.
“What have I gotten myself into?” I said out loud and turned, downing my glass of wine in one gulp.
I foresaw another restless night in my future.
See? I told you I was a good psychic.
Chapter Ten
On Friday, Luna came into my room as I was daydreaming about Cash, and sat down in my client's chair with a huff. It had been two days since our date and Cash had called me the night before to talk, and we’d set a date for Saturday night dinner. Knowing that I'd been a bit preoccupied lately, I pushed thoughts of Cash aside and narrowed in on Luna.
Her stick-straight blonde hair was tucked in a messy ponytail, and her gray shift dress was wrinkled.
“What's wrong with you?” I gasped, watching as she tapped her fingers on the table. I couldn't believe that I'd missed her wrinkly dress when I had come into the shop this morning.
The only thing that came between Luna and her iron was a man.
“Renaldo?” I asked, realizing that she'd yet to fill me in on her date with him. What a bad friend I was being this week, I thought with shock. “Luna, I'm sorry, I can't believe I didn't ask you about your date.”
Luna waved her hand distractedly. “It's fine. It's nice to see you mooning over a guy for once.”
That stopped me.
“I am most certainly not mooning,” I said stiffly.
“I would know, as I'm the one who has been watching you moon, haven't I?” Luna said, a note of tension in her voice.
Deciding to pick my battles, I backed down.
“Tell me about your date,” I said, moving to sit across from her at the table.
“It was great. Everything was great. Or so I thought…”
“Where did you go?”
“We went up to Key Largo and had this amazing dinner on a private yacht that he said he knew the owners of. It was perfect, quite honestly. Sunset cruise, good music, great food, charming man...and, ah shit, I slept with him.”
“You did!” I squealed. I couldn't help it. Usually it was the other way around – I was the one to rush headfirst into relationships while Luna proceeded exceedingly slowly, exercising caution with every twist and turn.
“I know. I don't know why, really. There was just something pushing me to have fun with him…you know, live a little,” Luna said, a pleading note in her voice.
“Hey, no judgment here. If you had fun, that's all that matters,” I said, holding my hands up to show her that I was on her side.
“Yeah, well it was a mistake, that jerk hasn't called me. I even broke down and texted him…but nada. Nothing. Zilch.”
My senses went on full alert and I flashed back to Renaldo, fear in his eyes as he looked at the death card.
“Oh, this isn't good,” I said.
“What? What do you mean?”
I looked at Luna helplessly. Should I break client confidentiality to tell her about his reading? She was my best friend after all.
“You think he got what he wanted and bailed, don't you?” Luna said, jumping up to pace my room.
She'd given me an easy out without realizing it. Deciding to wait just a little longer before I broke confidence, I nodded.
“Though it's hard to believe that any man would walk away from a woman like you, that just might be the case,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “Asshole,” I added for emphasis.
“Ugh, I knew it!” Luna's stabbed the air with her finger. “I knew it was a mistake to sleep with him.”
“I'm sorry, girl. Want to watch a movie and eat chocolate tonight?” I said, immediately offering up the best friend fare for broken hearts.
“No, I'm fine. It isn't that bad. I mean, it is, but I can't say my heart is broken,” Luna sighed and moved towards her side of the shop. “Which I guess is why I shouldn't have been sleeping with him, huh?”
I shrugged. “I think you just gotta take each man as he comes and figure it out,” I said sagely.
Like I was an expert on relationships.
Chapter Eleven
I was up before the birds – as the saying goes – on a Saturday morning, of all things. Not like I slept in much on Saturdays anyway, as I typically went into the shop for readings by 11:00.
Luna had taken me up on the offer of girl time and we'd had a fun night on the couch at her place, bitching about men and watching comedies. After a few hours, Luna's mood had lightened, and I could tell that she was back on track by the time I had left. Thankfully, it had stopped me from breaking confidentiality about Renaldo's reading.
Now if only Renaldo would make a damn appearance, I thought as I packed my dive bag. I had this niggling worry that something had happened to him and I just couldn't shake it.
“Stupid club guy probably went back to Miami to flash his money around,” I told Hank, and he barked enthusiastically in agreement.
“Good boy,” I said, smiling at his smushy face as I fished another toy from his toy drawer. The toys weren't really new; I just rotated them so he would have some variety.
“Back in a bit,” I called to Hank and breezed out the door, my dive bag slung over my shoulders and a loose cover-up pulled over my swimsuit. Hopping onto my bike, I pedaled through the quiet streets of Tequila, enjoying the morning silence. I wondered if Trace was going to give me a hard time about my date with Cash. I hadn't heard from him since our dive earlier this week, but that wasn't entirely unusual.
“Miss Althea!”
I jerked my head up and braked my bike, shading my eyes to look up at Miss Elva sweeping her front sidewalk in a flowing caftan the color of the sun at dusk.
I pulled my bike to the side of the road.
“Miss Elva. Always lovely to see you.”
She turned, and looked me up and down.
“You don't have my gris-gris on you.”
It was a statement, not a question and I felt my shoulders hunch a bit.
“Sorry, Miss Elva,”
I said, not able to meet her eyes.
“You need to carry that with you,” she insisted.
“I can't take it with me at all times, like when I’m diving, but I promise to tuck it in my dive bag next time. I have it in my purse,” I explained, wanting her to know that I valued her offering.
“Hmpf. The day you don't wear it is the day you will need it,” Miss Elva promised and went back to her sweeping, muttering about my stupidity.
I bit my lip and turned to look back down the road. Should I go back and get it? Checking my watch, I knew I would be cutting it close if I ran back to get the gris-gris before diving.
I rolled my eyes and continued on to the wharf. With all the voodoo, and the hoodoo, and the white witches going on around me, sometimes it was easy to get swept up in things. I'd spent my whole life without any gris-gris; I'm sure I would be just fine, I reasoned, allowing my practical side to shove its way to the top of my head.
The dock was humming with activity when I got there, as Saturdays were typically busy days for fishing charters. Locking my beach cruiser – painted hot pink of course – to the bike rack, I strolled down to Trace's boat, nodding good morning at people as I tried to push down the worry Miss Elva had managed to kick up.
A woman in a neon orange bikini caught my eye as I neared Trace's boat, and I slowed, wondering if he had a group booked for the day after all. Trace stood in front of her, his hair pulled back from his face with his sunglasses shading his eyes. A flirty laugh reached me and I groaned as the girl reached out and pushed Trace's chest a bit, laughing up at him. Trace didn't seem to mind. I mentally gagged.
“Hey!” I called, interrupting them as I reached the boat. The girl jumped a little, then turned to look at me with her lips pursed.
Oh, it's like that, I thought, as she looked me up and down and then raised an eyebrow before turning back to Trace.
“See you tonight?” she asked, not acknowledging my presence.
“Unless he has a date with me,” I said, smiling as I stepped past them onto the boat, removing my shoes and moving across to the bench to pull my bag off my shoulders. I didn't look back, barely able to keep the snarky smile from my face. Hopefully that would be enough to put Orange Bikini in her place.
“Really, Thea?” Trace asked as he stepped onto the boat, annoyance lacing his voice.
“What? That girl is a bitch,” I said, turning to defend myself.
“Sienna's just shy,” he said, standing in front of me, his arms crossed.
“Sienna, is it? Well, I don't like all 90 pounds of her,” I said with a huff as I turned and began to unpack my bag.
“Well that's too bad, I do,” Trace shot back as he moved behind the wheel. “Can you get the ropes?”
“Fine,” I said, pulling my cover-up off and sauntering across the front of the boat to jump on the dock. I made sure to bend over to give Trace the best view of my skimpy bikini. He could like 90-pound skinny girls all he wanted, but I wasn't going to hide what a real woman looked like either, I thought with satisfaction as I heard him curse.
The boat's engines roared and I jumped on the front as Trace reversed, and made my way back to the shaded part of the boat where the dive gear was.
“Cute,” Trace called over the engines and I bit my lip, hiding a grin.
“I thought you liked this bikini,” I called, and then shook my head at myself. Why was I courting trouble when I had a man like Cash taking me out for dinner tonight? The thought of Cash, and the heat his mouth gave me, sobered me instantly.
“I like what the bikini is on,” Trace called back and then set his GPS. Turning, he looked at me. “What? Date didn’t go well with Investor Boy? Looking to slum it with the likes of me?”
My mouth dropped open as a protest rose to my lips.
“Dating you is not slumming, Trace. Why would you think that?”
“Dude clearly has more money than me. Not to mention he looks like a freaking movie star,” Trace grumbled.
“Trace, you're a great guy. Plenty of women would be lucky to have you.”
“So why not you?” Trace said, his gaze on me.
The question left me frozen as I had to honestly consider it. My mouth worked to form an answer, but I couldn't really come up with one. There was no reason that I wouldn't date Trace. So why wouldn't I?
Trace waved his hand at me.
“Never mind, don't answer that. We've always had piss-poor timing.” He shrugged and took a swig from his water bottle.
We did?
That was news to me. Had I been involved in a game of romantic missed-chances with Trace and never even known it? I needed to talk to Luna; she was good at dissecting this stuff.
“So the date?” Trace asked, biting out the words.
“Great. It was great. He's a good guy,” is all I said, not sure if my words were hurting him, torn on what I was supposed to do in a situation like this.
“Good. If he treats you bad, tell him I'll kick his ass,” Trace said dryly.
I stood and walked over to Trace, leaning in to his tall frame to wrap an arm around his waist.
“You're a good one, Trace,” I said softly, looking up at him.
“Careful, Althea. Putting your arm around me in that skimpy bikini is only going to lead to the type of trouble that I'm just not sure you can handle,” Trace said, his words causing me to gasp and step back, while a low tug of lust rocketed through my body.
“And it's clear that you're not as indifferent to me as I thought,” Trace said, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at my breasts, where the thin bathing suit material offered a clear indication that I was turned on.
I took a deep breath and stepped back, moving away from Trace and the threat – or was it a promise – that he offered. Busying myself with my dive gear, I tried to think of Cash and how nice it would be to see him again tonight.
Not about the fact that I was alone on a boat with a very sexy man who had just declared his very serious interest in seeing what was beneath my bathing suit.
“Do you want to dive the wall again? We can go further south, where there are those crazy tunnels and it drops off forever,” Trace called and I blew out a breath, tamping down the lust that still surged inside of me.
“Yes, I'd love that.”
“Cool, we'll be there in five then,” Trace said, turning the boat a bit. I sat on the bench and looked out of the back of the boat, watching our trail through the water away from the mainland. The water was the bright turquoise so particular to the Caribbean, and the land was just a thin strip of golden sand and green trees in the distance. It made my heart hurt, just a little, to look at it. Sure, we had to deal with hurricanes and tropical storms, but on days like this, I wouldn't want to live anywhere else in the world.
I stood up and stepped into my wetsuit, shimmying it over my bathing suit and shoving my arms into the sleeves before stepping to the front of the boat as the large orange buoy bobbed in the water in front of us. I grabbed the hook pole and leaned over to snag the buoy line and secure the boat.
“All good?”
“Yes, let's dive,” I said, moving to the back of the boat.
“Okay, so at this site, we'll drop to the top of the wall and go to the left through a sand chute that will lead into a tunnel. The tunnel comes out over the drop-off. We'll drop down to about 120 feet along the wall; there are some super cool ledges that jut out randomly along the way that we can look under.”
“Sounds good. I remember this dive; should be good for some pictures,” I said, snagging my camera to put by my feet as I slid my BCD on and tightened the straps of the vest. Bending forward, I stepped from the bench, the weight of the tank heavy at my back as I made my way to the seat at the back of the boat where I secured my fins and my mask before standing up, camera in one hand.
“All good?” Trace asked again as I paused before entering the water.
“Yes, I think so,” I said, suddenly feeling very unnerved. I ran my hand over my BCD again,
checking straps, weights, and looking at my computer to see how much air I had in the tank.
“You sure?” Trace asked, watching me.
“Yeah, Miss Elva gave me the heebie-jeebies on the way over here, is all,” I said, waving it away.
Trace burst out in laughter, his eyes lighting behind his mask.
“She runs a good game, but I'm not entirely convinced she knows what's what,” he said.
“I'm not so sure about that, but I'll take your word for it today. I'm ready,” I said, putting the regulator to my mouth. Trace gave me the go ahead and I waited for the boat to dip low before doing a giant stride into the water, holding my mask and reg to my face with one hand and clutching my camera in the other.
The cool blue water welcomed me home and I sighed in happiness as Trace and I shot an “OK” signal to each other and began our descent to the sand chute below us. I couldn't help but watch how gracefully Trace moved through the water, his lean muscles outlined in his wetsuit.
Jeez, I was ready to just give it away all over town, I thought and shook my head, focusing back on the ocean bottom as we arrived near the sand and adjusted our buoyancy so we could swim neutrally through the water. Trace motioned me towards a tunnel that cut through the coral and my heart picked up speed a little bit. There was such a rush exploring tunnels at seventy feet, not knowing what you would find at the other end. I pulled my regulator hoses in close to me so as not to catch the coral and began to ease my way through the tunnel, taking pictures of a lobster that poked its spiny head out at us.
We reached the end of the tunnel and floated out over the blue abyss, my favorite part. I would challenge anyone not to feel a rush of excitement hovering above a 4,000-foot drop-off that faded into nothing. There could be anything down there…
I pulled out of my thoughts as Trace motioned for me to follow him over the coral wall and down to about 120 feet. I checked my dive computer and, knowing I only had about eight minutes at this depth, I brought my camera up and began to shoot pictures as we moved along the wall, coming upon a series of ledges sticking out from the wall like spikes. My eye caught a turtle moving up the coral between two ledges so I kicked ahead of Trace, determined to get a good picture. Holding the camera in front of me as I rounded a ledge, I fired off shot after shot, racing to catch the turtle.
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