by L. L. James
Blowing out a breath, Carm raked her hands through her loose hair and surveyed the room. Glancing around, she realized that it wasn’t really all that hard to tell the locals from the tourists. Most of the tourists had a slightly red cast to their skin from overexposure to the sun and Tommy Bahama clothing, while the locals looked casually hip in their light, loose clothing. They didn’t try to look “island”—they just were. The tourists, on the other hand, tried too hard to achieve that casual Caribbean chic look.
Carm glanced down at her own outfit, glad she didn’t fit into the obvious tourist camp. She thought she looked pretty neutral with her soft pink tank top, worn denim skirt and tan sandals. At least she wasn’t wearing a white t-shirt with I DID A VIRGIN . . island painted over her boobs like the big-haired brunette three tables over.
Thank God for small miracles.
Not that her breasts didn’t draw enough attention on their own, because they did. When a gal stood five-ten, had lots of curves and sported full D’s up top, she made a statement. Or at least they did.
And tonight they were making a subtle but sexy statement playing peek-a-boo with the square neck of her top. Just the right amount of cleavage showed. An I-know-I’m-good-and-don’t-need-to-flaunt-it-amount, not an I’m-a-tramp-look-at-me amount.
Carm bit her bottom lip and glanced over to the bar. The whole place had that tropical island feel to it with wicker tables, coconut candle holders, rattan ceiling fans and bright colored walls. Reggae music played in the background from wall speakers. The noise from the throng of customers all but smothered the feel-good music however, so she lifted the paper menu that was stuffed between two bamboo salt shakers and began to read.
Rum this, more rum that. She had never seen so many drinks made from one type of liquor. Not that Carm had anything against rum. She’d just never had a whole lot of experience with it either. No more than a few innocent visits with that one legged pirate and his faithful parrot.
She should have realized rum would be the liquor of choice considering that she resided on an island that’s livelihood once depended on the exportation of the stuff. And the coffee company that currently held so much importance in her sister’s life had been, at one time, a sugar cane/rum plantation itself.
Taking stock of her choices one last time, Carm glanced up in time to see a waitress in a hot pink blouse make her way through the crowded room to her. Taking a moment to admire the splash of color and sweet looking flower she’d placed behind one ear, Carm placed the menu back between the bamboo shakers.
“Hello der. My name is Dara. What can I get for ya now?”
Carm smiled and asked, “I think I’ll just take a platter of fried sweet plantains, actually. Oh, and I think a Coconut Breezer sounds tame enough for starters, would you agree?”
Dara tossed her head back and laughed, revealing the slim column of her throat. “Sure an dat be a good one ta start. Be sure ta try da Hurricane if ya like da Breeza.”
“I will. Thanks. I heard there’s live music here tonight, is that true?”
Dara lifted a slender hand, swept it over the direction of the stage and nodded, “Sure da band be playin’ tonight. Dey be on soon. Dem boys is gorgeous. Ya don’ wanna miss dem.”
Carm felt her lips twitch on a laugh at the way the waitress wiped her hand over her forehead and rolled her eyes. As Dara spun around to leave, Carm turned her attention to the couple grooving on the dance floor.
They certainly turned up the heat in the place with the way they danced. She felt a blush warm her cheeks just looking at them. They slithered and rubbed indecently all over each other.
Before she spontaneously combusted from heat overexposure, Carm turned her head toward the bar. Her waitress stood there flirting with the handsome bartender. She watched as he leaned over the bar to Dara, smiling. Dara said something in his ear that made him throw back his head in a fit of laughter.
Carm jerked when his dark gaze slid over her momentarily before it came to rest back on Dara. Were they talking about her? Sure enough, Dara turned her head and nodded in Carm’s direction.
Unsure whether to be offended or not, she scooted her chair away from them and faced the stage. Movement caught her eye and she looked up to see a man standing on stage fiddling with a keyboard and checking cords. Carm couldn’t help but giggle over his appearance.
Blond hair stood up around his head in short dreadlocks. Not the braided kind, but the other type that just sort of clumped together. He had a small vee patch (did they call those soul patches?) beneath his bottom lip that he’d grown long enough to put in a tiny braid. His electric blue shirt was left unbuttoned revealing his deeply tanned chest and a puka shell necklace.
Carm let her gaze travel down his fit body over his printed shorts to his white flip-flops. Thoroughly disheveled, the guy still managed to look sexy with his surfer-guy-goes-Caribbean appearance.
Carm’s waitress returned with her food and drink, setting it smoothly on the table. Before she could say anything, or ask what she and the bartender had been laughing about, Dara spun around and left.
Shrugging it off because she wasn’t about to have her night ruined, Carm reached for her drink. Tall and fluted with a curved top, it was the type of glassware typically used to serve frozen blended drinks with a nice little umbrella. She removed the blue umbrella, swirled the red straw in the cream colored smoothie and took a sip. A perfect blend of sweet coconut, juices, and liquor, she found it went down quite smoothly and took a long drink.
Lost in her culinary experience, Carm downed her drink while she munched away at her plantain slices. As she was sucking the last of the drink from the bottom of the glass a full one appeared next to it on the table.
Carm smiled her appreciation at Dara. “These are great. Keep them coming, won’t you?” A nice feeling of warmth had begun to spread in her body from the rum concoction. She felt her mood slip into a mellow, relaxed state and smiled to herself. She might just get a little drunk tonight on these creamy, yummy little drinks.
And why not?
How often did Carm find herself down in the Caribbean? Let’s see... umm, never. So she might as well enjoy it.
Tapping her foot along with the beat of the music playing through the speakers, she sipped at her new drink and sighed. So far her island experience had been absolutely perfect and she intended to soak it all up before tomorrow.
The island might look a whole lot different after her meeting with the biggest tyrant in the West Indies. So she deemed that tonight was for fun. It was for her to enjoy like she didn’t have a care in the world.
Heck, she might even flirt a little with dreadlock boy on stage.
Carm glanced back up at the stage and watched as more men came out and assumed their positions by their instruments. Four of them stood on stage in shorts and tank-tops or thin button-ups.
The guitarist ran his hands over the strings in a little riff of notes that signaled the bartender. The music stopped playing through the speakers. The crowd clapped their hands and whistled, eager to her some live music.
Carm downed the last of her second drink and surveyed the crowd. All eyes were on the stage as the band warmed up.
A woman from somewhere at the back of the crowd yelled out, “Hey Landon, where’s Marek? I got an itch ta see dat fine lookin’ man!”
Dreadlock guy looked up and grinned, revealing scrumptious little dimples. “He’s late as usual, but don’t you worry your pretty little head, he’ll be here.”
The woman—who Carm couldn’t spot in the crowded room while sitting down—yelled back, “If he don’t show, den you’ll have ta do tonight, sugar.”
The crowd chuckled at that and cheered her on. Carm couldn’t help but get caught up in the light-hearted party atmosphere. She settled back in her chair and relaxed. She planned on enjoying tonight to the fullest.
Landon grinned back over the crowd toward the woman, ran his fingers lightly over the keyboard and winked. While her eyes were squarely focused on Land
on and his funky appearance, Carm didn’t see the drummer finally arrive and slip up on stage. But the woman in the crowd certainly did.
Whistles and cat calls broke out from the crowd. However, before Carm could turn to look at the new arrival her waitress snagged her attention with another drink. She heard Landon chuckle and say something while she took her drink from Dara.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and her skin started to tingle when she heard the answering laugh and voice. With her frosty drink in hand, she slowly turned in her seat, her heart skipping a beat.
Up on stage, behind the drum set, dressed in cream trousers rolled up at the hem, flip-flops, and an unbuttoned lavender shirt stood Marek the drummer. Carm’s fantasy man from earlier than afternoon in the flesh. And the face that went with the toned body and exotic voice made her knees weak.
At the moment her fantasy was grinning broadly into the crowd, perfect teeth flashing. She suddenly felt a bit lightheaded and couldn’t tell if it was from the rum or the potency of that smile. It sent off sparks of sexual energy that shot straight to her core.
Grabbing her drink, Carm swallowed a huge gulp and tried to regain some sense of balance. It was hard—so hard—when up close and personal with a man who sported the most gorgeous pair of green eyes she’d ever seen. Even from her distance they sparkled like moss under an icy river. And they were framed by the most delicious set of eyelashes—long, dark, and thick.
As Carm watched, Marek licked his full lips and ran his teeth slowly over his scrumptious bottom lip. She had an almost overwhelming urge to jump up on stage and suck on it. With the rum kicking in she barely managed to restrain herself, but nothing on this earth could stop her from openly ogling him. She couldn’t seem to get enough.
From the front, Marek’s hair looked even better with the blond tips framing his face. It perfectly accentuated his beautiful tan and highlighted his straight nose, mysterious green eyes, and strong chin.
The man simply oozed charisma and was the most sensual, delicious package she’d ever seen. She had never seen one man look so damned good. From his amazingly fit body to his beautifully formed mouth, the guy couldn’t get much closer to physical perfection in her opinion.
Which meant she’d either had way too much to drink, or she was in big, big trouble.
Three
Marek shook his head and laughed softly. Friday night at Big Bubba’s tended to bring out the wild in people. And tonight was no exception.
Eyeing the crowd, Marek glanced at the woman propositioning him and had to laugh. It was Gloria, one of the locals. She’d been trying to get down his pants for months now. She sat at the bar in a mint green tube top puffing on a cigarette. Gloria waved coyly at him and Marek smiled weakly. He didn’t have the heart to tell her she didn’t have a chance, but no way was it ever going to happen. Not ever. Marek preferred his women a little less desperate.
Instead of encouraging her, Marek glanced down at his steel drum set and waited for Damien to step over to the mic and signal for them to begin.
“Hey man, looks like Gloria’s got it in for you tonight. What are you going to do?”
Marek raised a brow as he glanced over at his best friend, Landon Harper. Lifting a strong hand to the back of his neck, Marek rubbed the base and watched as Landon tried unsuccessfully to hide his amusement. “Ignore her, like always. Man, I’ve got to find her someone else to obsess over. You game?”
Landon shook his head vigorously and laughed. “Hell no, man. I’ve got enough to worry about. Don’t need to add her to the list.”
Marek rolled his head from side to side and loosened his shoulders with a few forward rolls. He couldn’t blame Landon. The woman was a mess waiting to happen.
“I might add her though.”
Frowning in question, Marek waited for Landon to be more specific. When he didn’t answer fast enough, Marek asked, “Who are you talkin’ about?”
Landon inclined his blond head to the right. Marek glanced down and felt his stomach take a long, liquid roll. His palms went damp and shaky. Placing his sticks back on the drum set, he wiped them casually on the front of his cotton shirt.
“She’s fine, isn’t she? And all alone.”
She most certainly was. Fine and alone. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She wasn’t beautiful in a classic sense, but the confident way she sat and the lush curve of her body in that little pink top made her one sexy woman.
And Marek had a thing for tall, curvy blonds wearing pink.
Just then, she looked up from her drink and he felt the zing of chemistry like a sucker punch in the gut. From the look on her face Marek knew she felt it too. Her blue eyes went big and round and her plump lips fell open slightly.
“Sexy, isn’t she? I’ve been watching her for a while and she’s been downing those drinks pretty fast. Primed for the picking if you ask me, man.”
Sucked out of his trance, Marek broke eye contact and shook his head. “What did you say?”
Landon flashed his dimples and chuckled. “Ah, I see how it is. Why don’t you introduce yourself? Have a hot little fling. By the way she’s eating you up, she’d be all for it.”
The idea of a sweaty romp with her sent a ball of heat coursing through Marek’s veins. It’d been a while since he’d had a sweaty romp with anyone.
But before he could entertain the thought further their lead singer signaled them to start. The band kicked off the night with a cover rendition of the great Bob Marley’s “Stir It Up.” Their lead singer Damien lifted his voice above the claps and whistles of the crowd, his honey-smooth voice richly rolling with heavy accent.
Marek tried to focus on his drums and tune out the blond women in the crowd. Instead of diving into his music as he normally did, he felt a constant sense of awareness of her. And instead of sliding into his groove, he felt awkward and disjointed. Every fiber of his being was tuned into her and every subtle movement she made.
Loath to ignore the potent feelings coursing through him, Marek decided to follow where they lead. He knew some strong magic carried between them, alive and pulsing. Having grown up on the island, he didn’t believe in coincidence. Only magic and fate.
It was definitely fate—and a heavy dose of magic stardust--that brought the woman into his bar tonight and he planned on giving fate a great big thank you kiss and helping hand the first chance he had.
The blond’s eyes remained firmly locked on him and Marek felt the charge of that intensity to his bones. Wanting to play with it, play with her, he shot her a wicked grin and gave her a quick once-over. Thoroughly satisfied by her sweet blush and shyly returned smile, Marek winked at her and sang the chorus into the microphone along with Landon.
Man he felt good tonight. Charged, alive, ready for action. It was the kind of night where one could blow off some steam and forget for a time who they were and the heavy burden of responsibility. The kind of night that made life worth living.
Marek loved his life, his music, and playing in the band. He’d grown up with most of the band members and had been friends with them for many years. The only exception was Landon, who’d moved to the island about three years ago.
Now his best friend, Landon had thrown in his support months ago during Marek’s personal upheaval and helped out without question wherever needed. He’d understood that it wasn’t everyday a father Marek never knew died and left him a billionaire with a thriving business. Not to mention, a load of unanswered questions.
Other than his mother, Landon had been the only person he’d been able to confide in and vent to during his time of need. Landon might look a little different, a little wild, but he possessed a sharp, keen mind, and an enormous heart.
The band played on through their first set, a mixture of songs by local legends and well-known ones alike. Marek felt his balance slowly return sometime during the evening, even as the awareness of her never subsided. He felt every look she sent him like a physical caress. As the night wore on Marek embraced the
rush and waited impatiently for a chance to speak with her.
His chance finally came at the end of the set. The band wrapped the night up with a slow ballad that jammed the dance floor with old couples and new lovers. As they crooned into the microphones about good, good loving, Marek felt anticipation tingle along his skin.
Magic floated on the air tonight and he intended to take full advantage of it. The moon outside hung full and round in the night sky and stars twinkled like glitter. He sensed the magic—and the power of the island—and knew tonight it was for lovers, new and old.
With that knowledge in mind, and the rush of heat in his blood, Marek stepped down off the stage and walked purposefully toward the blond. He watched as her big blue eyes grew even wider in her soft round face and her hands gripped her drink for dear life. So tuned in was he to her every movement he almost felt the rapid rise and fall of her chest and her speeding pulse.
Riding on the wave of some intangible force, eyes locked to hers, Marek reached her side. Forcing her to tip her head back to maintain eye contact as he neared, he slowly leaned down.
Drawn by an irresistible need, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her softly. Electricity shot through him down to his toes, speeding his already rapid heartbeat and pumping his veins with liquid gold. The feel of her lips warm on his sent shivers down his spine.
Reluctantly Marek broke the kiss and pulled back. Masculine satisfaction filled him as he watched her fingers touch her lips and her eyes slowly flutter open. He gave himself a mental high five for placing that dazed look in her eyes.
Marek waited until her beautiful blue eyes focused on him. Then he smiled, slow and sexy. “Hi.”
She swallowed a few times and found her voice, “Hi.” Staring up at him, she whispered, “Why did you just do that?”
Marek reached for a chair and lowered himself down to face her. Enjoying himself immensely and his obvious reaction to her, he relaxed and slung an arm over the back of his chair. “Nice to meet you, too. And I don’t need a reason to do what I want, cheri. My island, my rules.”