The Widows of Sea Trail-Vivienne of Sugar Sands

by Jacqueline DeGroot

  Now that the danger of falling was over, the protective adrenaline backed up and sent a crimson blush instead. “I am such a klutz!”

  He was looking down at his hand, the one that had gripped my breast, as if awestruck.

  “I get it from my mother.”

  “Amazing breasts?” he asked as if dazed.

  I let out a deep sigh, “No, my lack of coordination.”

  “Oh.”

  I wondered if my mother had screwed up her no-trip chant and caused me to trip instead. It was so like her.

  He was still staring at his hand and I could sense what he was thinking; he was thinking, I know I felt a full plump breast, nipple and all under the flimsy material of that dress. She’s not a young lady, yet, look at her, her breasts are perky and high and full on her chest as if she was in her twenties.

  I was not about to settle the confusion I saw on his face. Maybe if he got to know me better, he’d eventually discover I was wearing an underwire cupless bra. It allowed me to have the much-needed support for these puppies, while allowing the nipples to have “their say.” Anyone who cared to look could see the outline of them. And boy was he looking.

  When he finally dragged his face back to mine, I smiled, “Maybe we should just shake hands instead of body parts. I’m so sorry about that.”

  “I’m the one who should be apologizing, but you’ll notice that I clearly am not. My evening’s already a huge success even if dinner is not.” A roguish grin spread across his face and I watched a dimple deepen as genuine good humor spread to his eyes.

  He took my arm and gently turned me toward the restaurant and the steps. “Do you mind if I hold on to you so you don’t do a half gainer off the steps?”

  I chuckled, “No, feel free to hold on to my arm, I’d appreciate it in fact.”

  He led me up the steps and when we faced the hostess he gave his name and we were seated over by the windows facing the ocean. It was very romantic. I noticed that our table was set differently; the others weren’t quite so formal. Draped with a pristine white tablecloth, covered with gleaming china, sparkling crystal, and candlelight from what appeared to be antique candleholders, it stood out—everything looked elegant. There was a low bouquet of sweetheart roses in a crystal ginger jar type vase in the center of our table and a bucket of champagne already chilling in a stand beside it.

  “Wow, how beautiful. Those candles look a bit familiar, I think I have a set at home like that. You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

  “And you sure know how to take a man off his stride.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Dinner We ate formally, one course after another served by a battalion of waiters while we politely asked questions about each other’s food preferences, tastes in wine, restaurants we were fond of in Myrtle Beach, and what authors we like to read. Then he dismissed the waiters, who seemed always at our elbows.

  He sat across the table staring at me, leaning back into his seat. “You are stunning. You must have been drop-dead gorgeous in your twenties. Dale was a very smart man to have snatched you up and taken you off the market. Don’t we wish we could all go back to when we were in our prime? I wouldn’t have to find time in a hectic day to work out to keep my blood pressure in check, and you would not be dieting and walking like there’s no tomorrow. ”

  “Well unless you have a magic wand, going back in time is not going to happen.”

  “Well, for your part, there’s no need to, I am well satisfied with stunning.”

  Maybe it was because he looked so handsome sitting there in his designer suit, or maybe it was the flattery, that despite its outward sincerity seemed trite, or maybe the stress was catching up with me, but all of a sudden I felt cheap, insignificant and like a hell-bent loser vying for the last place in a talent show. “You know, this feels like an audition, and I just don’t need this. I don’t know why I’m putting myself through all this. I’m really very happy with my life.” I stood and moved my chair away with the back of my knees.

  “Whoa, where ya goin’? You can’t leave now—you got the part.”

  “I’ve changed my mind, I don’t think I’m ready for all this. I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time.” I turned to walk away. His brandy-coated voice stopped me.

  “If I had a magic wand, I wouldn’t turn back the clock so I could change you, not one iota. I’d turn it back so I could spend more time with you.”

  I paused and it was long enough for him to come up behind me and kiss the back of my neck. “You do ticked off bitch very well,” he whispered in my ear. I felt his hot breath and then the flick of his tongue before he pulled away. My arms trembled and I felt shivers go down my spine and dissolve my anger.

  “You do arrogant prick even better.”

  He threw back his head and laughed and it was the most genuine, happy sound I think I’ve ever heard from a man. He was a boy on Christmas morning, a lad catching his first fish, and a man immensely intrigued by a woman who had just made him decide he’d like nothing more than to take her to bed. It was a man delighted with his world. And he seemed totally enchanted with me at the moment, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. He walked me back to the table and I took my seat again. He bent and retrieved my napkin from the floor and replaced it on my lap.

  “So you’ve seen the others already, the five finalists?” I asked.

  “Yes. You’re actually the last one. I was purposely saving the best for last.”

  I don’t know why, but this surprised me. I had thought I was one of the first dates in this bizarre bride hunt.

  “So what was wrong with the others?”

  “Well, the first one was too chatty. She was from Worcester, Massachusetts and had this lazy hard drawl, so it was deceiving at first, but after a while when I noticed I had started breathing for her because she didn’t appear to be doing it for herself, I knew I couldn’t spend a day with her, nonetheless a lifetime. The second had a nasal whine that set my teeth on edge from the very first word. Like Fran Dresher, and while The Nanny was a hoot to watch, I could never have lived with that woman either. The third had incredibly ugly feet. I know that sounds shallow of me, but once I saw them I could not get the woman out of my bed fast enough.”

  I choked on my water. “You slept with her on the first date?”

  “Technically no one slept. But no . . . I didn’t do that either. The foot fungus thing, bunions like ginger root knobs, and toes twisted on top of each other. Ugh! This woman was definitely paying the piper for the ill-fitting shoes she had worn in her youth. It was quite awkward for several minutes as I tried to come up with a plausible reason for getting out of there, unscathed, so to speak.”

  “And the fourth?”

  “I’m afraid this is where you’ll see the shallow side of me—she had no tits.”

  “She was flat-chested?”

  “No, I mean literally, they were gone.”

  “She’d had breast cancer?” I whispered with reverence.

  “Well actually no, she and her sister had genetic testing done a few years back and as breast cancer ran in her family to a major degree, they both had prophylactic mastectomies done with no thoughts to reconstruction.”

  “She told you this or you found it out like the bad feet?”

  “She insisted on showing me. It was a huge deal that I accept her the way she was.” He shook his head and looked over at me. “But I couldn’t, I just couldn’t. They don’t have to be big, and they don’t have to be real, but there has to be something there when everything comes off.”

  “I think you’re shallower for that than the feet thing.”

  “Yes, well. I felt pretty awful about that, she really was a nice lady.” He took a long swig of his wine. “Now, I already know that you have at least one very nice breast, big, full and with a very hard nipple. If you have a matched set, we’re good to go. Hmmm . . . but by the look you’re giving me, I gather I’m not going to get to play with the twins tonight am I?” From his smile,
his wink, and his low playful tone, I could tell that he was teasing me. But it was erotic as all get out.

  “We’re not even through the first date and you’re sure I’m the one? I find that very hard to believe.”

  “I knew from the moment I heard you laugh that first night that you were the one. All the rest was just formality. And chemistry.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, but I am. It was such a delightful sound that I knew instantly that I wanted to be surrounded by it for the rest of my days. I want to hear it coming out of the rooms of my house, down the staircases, floating to me across the pool, beckoning to me from our bed. Mmmm hmmm, you’re the one. I knew none of the others had charms that would dim your laughter, or be able to compete with your self-deprecating brand of humor. I knew you would make me happy in a day-to-day companionable way. And tonight, when I saw you, I knew you would keep me happy in bed. By the way, you smell incredible, so I think we have the chemistry in hand as well.”

  “I only have the right breast,” I couldn’t help myself.

  He shot me a wicked, sinful smile, “You liar. You think I haven’t been switching back and forth, watching both of your nipples trying to poke through those damned polka dots. You have tits like a Vargas girl and if your feet check out, I’m ready to sign on the dotted line tonight.”

  I couldn’t help it, I smiled back. It was a wickedly playful smile. I was enjoying myself with a man again and it felt wonderful. I slipped my foot out of my high heel and with foolhardy nonchalance ran my stockinged foot up his pants leg until my foot rested on his chair seat, between his thighs. While his eyes stayed on mine, his hand reached out to expertly massage it. He did this for several minutes, never taking his eyes from mine as his big hand plied my toes and his thumb pressed into the ball of my foot. Over and over, his hand caressed its way down my arch and slowly came back to massage my toes. I had to bite back a groan. His fingers felt incredible and they knew intrinsically where to push, where to press, where to rub and just how hard he could massage before the action of his hand would turn pleasure into pain. I had never had a man make love to my feet before and it was all I could do not to beg him to let my other foot be pleasured too. After another minute, he looked down and adjusted the tablecloth so he could see my foot. “Very pretty. Love the pink polish. I predict I’ll be sucking on these toes by Easter.” He tenderly squeezed and stroked each toe. “I’d love to see these nails with French tips.” His fingernail scraped over the base of each nail and then his thumbnail made a grove in the middle of my arch on the underside of my foot. It tickled like crazy and my foot jumped. I kicked the bottom of the table causing the silverware to clatter against the china plates. He laughed and I knew he had calculated the maneuver. Slowly I drew my foot away, evilly dragging my big toe along his inner thigh before replacing it in the high heel that was in front of my chair.

  I had the satisfaction of catching him unaware. His nostrils flared as he suppressed a gasp. Oh yes, I could be up for this challenge. I definitely could.

  “Dessert?” The waiter asked as he came to stand between us looking first to Philip, and then to me.

  “Well, what’ll it be? I know you’ve been working hard to lose some weight, so I don’t want to ruin that for you. Still, I’m used to something sweet before I turn in.” No way could I miss his double meaning.

  I looked up at the waiter, “Do you have fresh fruit with some whipped cream on the side perhaps?”

  “I’m sure the chef can prepare something for you,” Philip said with a smile and nodded at the waiter as if daring him to defy him. “And some Remy Martin, two glasses and the bottle.” Afifty-dollar bill appeared and was slid to the end of the table; the waiter took it and nodded his understanding.

  “For me, you can drizzle some chocolate on anything that resembles cheesecake, and I’d like some coffee, black.” His aura of influence could not be mistaken. It was as if he knew without a doubt that the chef would hop in his car and drive to the closest grocery store rather than disappoint him. Maybe he was used to this treatment in Charlotte, but this was not his city. Still, I could imagine his arrogance served him well anywhere he went.

  I nodded and said I would like coffee too, decaf, with cream, please.

  The waiter left and we looked at each other for a long moment before he took my hand in his. “I know this is sudden, but I also know that you are the woman I want. How long is it going to take me to convince you that we’re going to be good for each other?”

  “Well, more than the first date certainly. But if those foot massages are included, it may not take as long as you think. And of course, we have a lot of practical issues to decide.”

  “I’ll leave my issues to the devises of my attorneys. But I’ll be happy to listen to any of your concerns.”

  “Only one comes to mind right now.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “What’s the hurry? Are you sick or something? Is there anything I should know along those lines?”

  His eyebrow quirked and his smile was an ironic one. “No, as far as I know I’m healthy and on target for another twenty or thirty years, God willing, of course.”

  He let out a long sigh. “I’ve had an unusual life, but through most of it, I’ve been alone. Sure . . . during the day, I have people all around me, but at night, when I go home, I go to an empty house or apartment. There is no one to notice if I stay out too late at the bars, no one to wake me if I forget to set the alarm, no one to pull me into their arms when I have a bad dream, and no one to wake me on Christmas mornings with a foil-wrapped present I have absolutely no use for.” He took a deep breath and let out a long sigh before continuing, “I don’t want that anymore. I want a companion—in all the ways that a man needs one. I want a woman who will be there when I climb into bed at night and I want the same one tucked into me when I open my eyes in the morning. I want someone to go places with, host parties with, someone to share a very fine, hard fought life. I have money, lots of it, and now I want to spend it with someone who’s fun to be with, and with someone who wants to spend it with me.”

  “Why is that so hard for you to find? Why did you have to go to all the trouble of hiring a professional matchmaker, and a very expensive one at that?”

  “I’ll answer your second question first. I believe if you’re going to do something, especially something as important as this, you have to go to the best in the field. If you’re going to sell your house, you use the best agent, if you’re going to buy magnificent art, you go to the finest galleries in the world. I don’t do things half way, never have. Second, I didn’t know how to find what I wanted in a reasonable time frame. I didn’t want to waste years finding you. I’d rather not have lost five or six more years looking for you when those same years could be spent being with you, enjoying you. And . . . since we don’t exactly run in the same social circles, I may never have found you if I hadn’t sent a professional shopper looking for you—on my behalf. Interestingly enough, I do play golf at Sea Trail on occasion; I have even been within a hundred feet of your back door hitting golf balls over the last few years. But not once have I seen you. And I would have remembered had I looked up to see you on your deck looking out to the fairway, or standing in your yard watering your flowers. Had you been on the phone laughing while deadheading petunias, I would have looked up and seen you and fell for you right then. But that never happened. So that’s why I went to New York and hired the best woman in her field, a woman who assured me that she’d find you for me. So no, I am not running out of time, I’m just trying to make the best use of what time I have left.”

  “How can you be so sure I’m the one? We’ve only just met.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. We physically met tonight, but we’ve known each other in our hearts and in our desire for this kind of relationship for a long time. I’ve dreamt about you, as I’m sure you’ve dreamt about me.”

  “Wait, wait. Wait a minute. You don’t know my mother d
o you?”

  He chuckled. “Only from what Matt has told me. But I understand in-laws come with the package, and I’m fine with that, as long as she doesn’t live with us. I want no kids, no grandkids, and no pets. You fit that bill. I don’t want us to be tied down. And if I want to fuck you in the library, I want no complaints, and no voyeurs.”

  My eyes went wide, heat suffused my face with what I was sure was a telltale crimson, and I think I actually spit out, “What about the librarian, the patrons?” I had to wipe my mouth with my napkin to be sure there wasn’t drool on my lips.

  “The library in my house you twit, not the public library.” “You have a house with its own library?”

  “I’ll have to show you my house in Charlotte as well as the one in Charleston. I have several libraries, in several houses.”

  “Just how wealthy are you?”

  “We can play for a long, long time and not run out of money. The need to make money, piles of it, is why I’ve been alone for so long. Now, it’s time to kick back and spend it. And I’m going to need some help.”

  “I am not sure we are at all suited to each other. I don’t come from money; I don’t have a need for a lot of money. Having money takes too much effort, you’re always fighting to keep it or to make more. The uncomplicated life is what appeals to me. I like things simple, easy.”

  “Well . . . from now on, so do I. I have people who work for me whose job it is to fight on my behalf and to make my money make more. But really, we’ll be just fine if they don’t.”

  The waiter brought our coffee, our dessert, the bottle of Remy Martin and two large brandy snifters that he filled halfway. Philip asked for the check. It was an unspoken request: let’s get this business over and done with so you can leave us alone. He was totally absorbed with me and I had to suppress a smile at the way he ignored everyone else. Even the pretty young things walking by didn’t distract him.