Jade's Song (South of the Border Book 2)
Page 4
I step around a sharp shell on the beach. Three people are out in the sea kayaking. Another person glides across the water on a paddleboard. I’d try that, too, if I could swim. At least my sister, Chiara, got a chance to learn. And she’s loved the water ever since.
My next Estados Unidos tour will be on the Costa de California. San Diego, Del Mar, Los Angeles, South Pasadena, and San Francisco. I just finished a tour here in my home country. It ended in Cuidad de México. My mamá now lives in a small town in the mountains called San Miguel de Allende. After so many years living in the chaos of the Distrito Federal, she wanted to be somewhere quiet. Cuidad de México is one of the largest cities in the world, hosting more than 20 million people. There are constant traffic jams, the air is polluted, and the streets are crowded and dirty. Large cities drain my vital energy. I felt exhausted after four days in the city. Breathing too much polluted air and hearing too many honking horns made me long to be back in this quiet seaside town again.
I turn toward the sea and spot another shape moving in the water. A dolphin perhaps? Then I realize, it’s a person swimming toward the estuary, nearly at the speed that I’m walking. He’s a really strong swimmer. Faster than my sister even. Maybe even an Olympian. Gliding through the water with a steady stroke and kick, seemingly unaffected by the rolling swells. Nearby, dolphins are arching out of the water and submerging. They appear to be headed directly toward the swimmer.
Does he know they’re near? Is he afraid? I know I would be. They’re so big. I stop walking and raise my binoculars to my eyes. I brought them for birdwatching in the estuary, but they should work well for dolphin-viewing, too.
I’m surprised to see it’s a woman swimming out there. I know no man would wear that pink swim cap. She’s surrounded by dolphins. Instead of the powerful freestyle she was swimming earlier, she’s doing a slow breaststroke. She seems aware of the dolphins’ presence and still appears to be relaxed. I see no signs of thrashing or panicky movement. A dolphin surfaces right beside her. I see two more dolphins not too far away. The woman lowers her head. She must be watching the dolphin underwater. Incredible.
The woman is fearless. It’s almost like she knows these sea creatures. The dolphin beside her dives and soon is on the other side of her. She turns around to look at him and he dives again. He comes up behind her. Then he dives again and comes up so close, she could probably touch him—wait—I think she is touching him. I saw her reach for his back. She knows these dolphins. And these dolphins know her. How incredible it is to see someone so connected with these powerful, intelligent creatures.
Sudden longing tugs inside my chest. I’ve been drawn to the sea ever since I first laid eyes on this beach. I could be out in the sea, too, if only I knew how to swim. My childhood was full of worries once my father left. I was the oldest child. I went to school, worked part-time in the afternoon and evenings. I had no time for swimming lessons.
I imagine myself out there in the sea. I waded up to my chest yesterday and tried floating on my back. I enjoyed feeling my body rising and falling with the waves. But it would be so incredible to swim through the water like that mysterious woman out there. So effortlessly. Como una criatura del mar (Like a creature from the sea).
The woman turns in my direction to look for one of the dolphins. And then follows it close to shore. I sense she sees me. Suddenly, I feel awkward. I’ve been observing her private moment. Basically, spying on her. I lower the binoculars and let them hang from my neck. She’s swimming away from shore again. Almost like she wants to get away from me. I sense a hollow space inside of my gut that I didn’t notice before. I wish she would have swum over to speak to me. Maybe she didn’t because of my creepy behavior. I continue walking. But she stays in my thoughts. And then, the words to a song pop into my mind.
Every morning, I wake to a different place
Toronto, San Diego, Madrid, Rome
Another city, another concert, another place to sing and share my gift
It’s who I am. I’m a performer. I sing songs of love. I sing songs of life
Sometimes I need to escape, to just get away
I return to this quiet seaside town in Mexico
My soul craves tranquility like the desert craves a drop of water
Here, I can remember who I am, I’m in a place where I can create
Chorus
Mysterious woman, she swims in the sea
So strong, so free.
Surrounded by dolphins
Surrounded by blue-green sea
She looks free.
The way I want to be.
I see her swimming in the Sea of Cortez, so fast and powerful
Like she belongs in the sea
Dolphins splash all around her
She moves, like flowing water, with them
In the sunlight she could be one of them
The dolphins must know her voice
A voice I’d like to know
I wish I could be out there in the sea, swimming free
Chorus
Mysterious woman, she swims in the sea
So strong, so free.
Surrounded by dolphins
Surrounded by blue-green sea
She looks free.
The way I want to be.
The lyrics play over and over in my mind. I hear the words in English, Italian, and Spanish. I perform in all three languages, depending on where I’m touring. I hum out the tune I heard in my mind as I composed the lyrics. I walk along considering the instrumentation. Acoustic guitar. Trombone. Saxophone. Drums. I’ve walked to the estuary and back, barely noticing my surroundings. But I still see the woman surrounded by dolphins in my mind’s eye.
I look up, surprised to hear a splash. I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t notice the woman—no, not just any woman, it’s her. The one I saw swimming with dolphins walks out of the water gracefully, revealing long tanned legs. Her feet slide through the shallow waves without a hint of hesitation or difficulty with balance. She pulls off her goggles and swim cap and a torrent of wet dark hair tumbles over her defined, toned shoulders. Her eyes are large and dark and full of lively energy. She’s wearing a pink and blue bikini. Every inch of her body is muscular and incredibly sexy. She swings her head suddenly in my direction, as if only now noticing me.
Oh, no, I’m staring. Again. At least this time it’s not through my binoculars. What’s wrong with me? I talk to women all the time. So why am I standing here like a frozen statue with my mouth hanging open? I need to say something before she runs away. “Buenos días.”
“Buenos días.” Her accent is distinctly American. Her broad smile and the happy lines at the corners of her big brown eyes show sheer joy. It radiates from her face.
I wonder if she is always this happy or if swimming in the sea with the dolphins brought that smile to her face. I change to English. “You’re a very good swimmer.”
She grins again and tucks a lock of hair behind one ear. “I’ve always loved to swim. But for many years I only got to swim in a pool. It’s amazing being out in the sea.”
“I’m sure it is. You’re a very good swimmer.” Already said that. I mentally kick myself. Let’s try again. I clear my throat, feeling out of my element. I just repeated myself and I’m standing here looking like a prize nerd with binoculars around my neck. She swam away when she saw me earlier. I need to turn this conversation around so she doesn’t walk away.
Que extraño (How strange). Usually, I’m trying to get away from women. They can be even worse than the paparazzi. They follow me into restaurants, into stores, laughing and giggling and handing me notes with their phone numbers on them. One woman even followed me into a men’s bathroom in a restaurant in Baltimore asking if I wanted to hook up. Now that’s romantic. Sometimes I take someone to dinner and back to my place. But it never leads to anything meaningful. But no conversation I’ve ever had with any woman ever helped me prepare for this moment.
“Thanks. You should take a dip yoursel
f—it’s a perfect day for it.” Her laugh is carefree. “I mean, after you put the binoculars away of course.”
I lift the binoculars and let them fall back against my chest. “Yes, they would weigh me down a bit wouldn’t they?” I pause. “But I don’t swim.” She’s not asking me for anything. Not if she can go get her phone and take my photo or if I’d mind giving her an autograph. She doesn’t strike me as the type to be obsessed with money or cars or expensive clothing. Maybe she’s different? Someone I could enjoy going out with. I’ve had enough of empty relationships where all the conversations leading up to the sex made me feel lonelier than ever. These women never asked about my childhood, or wanted to know about my mamá or my brothers and sister. They asked how much money I make and if we could go for a ride in a limo. It’s always fame and money women seem to be interested in, not me.
This sea swimmer seems different from any other women I’ve met. She’s not only beautiful. She seems real. And being so near her sends bolts of desire through my body. Maybe that’s why I can’t say a single word that makes sense.
She tips her head and gives me a curious look. The long pause in our conversation has become awkward. I should say something. About the weather maybe. No, that’s the kind of meaningless dialogue no me gusta. She saves me from having to speak. “Why don’t you swim? You’re uncomfortable in the water?”
“No, that’s not it. I love the sea. I wade in to cool off. But I never learned how to swim.” I’m appalled to hear the ring of sadness in my voice. I wanted a real conversation, which we’re now having, but not for her to think I’m pathetic. I pull my shoulders back, hoping a straight stance will make me look stronger and that it will boost my waning confidence. I already tower over this woman at six foot two. My shadow shades most of her body. My father and I have nothing in common in the way of values, but I can’t change the physical resemblance. We both have a tall, muscular, Scandinavian-like body frame, probably since his great-grandparents were born in Norway.
She smiles and bites her thick lower lip in a way that’s really cute. “I can tell you want to learn to swim. Why don’t you take lessons?” Her gaze meets mine. She blinks once, then again. As if she’s trying to decide whether she should say what she’s thinking. Water drips from her long lashes. They make her eyes look so large and intelligent. “I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Jade.” She extends a hand to shake, instead of coming closer for the customary Mexican kiss on the cheek.
I take her small hand in mine and shake it. Electricity races up my arm. My pulse hiccups. “I’m Luca. Nice to meet you.” My gaze drifts from her face over the length of her body. Her body is strong and well-toned, but she has feminine curves in all the right places. Her breasts are large and round, her nipples teased to firm by the cool sea breeze. And she has the most amazing legs I’ve ever seen. Perfect muscle definition. Her thighs are beautifully shaped—her tan and the water droplets on them exaggerate each flexing muscle. And her calf muscles are incredible. Most women’s calf muscles aren’t even noticeable. But Jade’s are curvy and perfectly shaped.
“I like that name, Luca,” she says, slowly releasing my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
Now what do I say? I can’t let this be it. I’m attracted to her and I want to know more about her. I could ask if she’s staying at Bahía Delfin? But then she might think I’m only looking for a hookup. It would be nice to sit with her on the beach somewhere and talk. Swimming. I can ask her about swimming. “Do you swim every day, Jade?”
“Usually. Unless there’s a storm and it’s too rough. Then I have to settle for the pool.”
“It sounds like you come to San Carlos a lot.”
“I live here now. Moved down from the States a couple of months ago. How about you? Are you here on vacation?”
Her answer surprises me. Most Americans living in San Carlos are retired. Jade looks barely thirty. Maybe she got a work permit and started a business? Her comment opens up so many questions. I want to know how she ended up here. What she does for work. And if there’s a boyfriend or husband in the picture. But I don’t want to seem nosey. “Yes, I’m only here for four days. But I like San Carlos. I come here whenever I can.” I intentionally don’t mention my career. She hasn’t recognized me so far and I like being anonymous for a change. I’ve always wanted to have a normal conversation with a woman instead of having to answer the stream of usual questions. What is it like to be a famous musician? You must love traveling all over the world. How much money do you make? Do you own a private jet? I’ve had so many of these empty, shallow conversations without an ounce of real connection that I’ve lost count. When I’m on a date, I feel like I’m being interviewed for a feature article, “Pop Stars: They’re Not Like You and Me.”
“Too bad you can’t stay longer.” Jade looks out over the water, her eyes looking dreamy.
“You really like being out there, don’t you?”
“I do. Swimming in the sea feels like a miracle every time.”
“I wish I could swim.” My shoulders and neck muscles stiffen. Why did I have to blurt that out? Again.
Her lively, intelligent eyes widen. They look huge surrounded by her long, wet lashes. “You could learn to swim while you’re here.”
“I’ve tried floating on my stomach and pulling with my arms, but I’m uncomfortable putting my head underwater and I can’t do the breathing.”
A broad smile brightens her face. “Maybe I can give you a lesson.” Her voice rings with innocent excitement. She seems to have no idea what a challenge this might be.
“I don’t know.” She probably has a restaurant to run. Or a real estate office. Some workplace she needs to go. Her proposal is the perfect excuse for me to see her again, but I don’t want to be a nuisance. And I would like to impress her, which I certainly won’t do floundering around in the sea choking on water.
“How about tomorrow?” She glances at her watch. “Same time as now. You can meet me here at the beach. I’ll teach you after my morning swim.” She hands me her swim goggles. “I’ve got some extra pairs in my condo. Bring these along. Being able to see underwater might help you to relax.”
I take the goggles from her hand, feeling another charge of energy when our fingers touch. “Thanks for letting me use these. And for offering to teach me.” I pause. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want to be any trouble.”
She winds a long strand of wet hair around one finger and tips her head, studying me with her bright, dark eyes. The highlights in her wavy hair glisten in the sunlight. “It’s no trouble at all, Luca. I like to teach swimming. I wish that more people could experience what it’s like to be out in the sea gliding over the waves.”
“I should pay you,” I blurt out.
Jade laughs. She touches me gently on the arm. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re just having a bit of fun. I’m looking forward to it.” She peeks at her watch again and a troubled look crosses her face. “I need to get back to my condo. I have a project due later that I need to get back to. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Hasta mañana.”
She takes a skipping step away, flings her wet hair over her shoulder and walks down the beach. I continue to watch her as she shrinks smaller and smaller in the distance. Jade may be a mile down the beach, but her footprints remain in the sand, a reminder that she’s made a lasting impression on me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jade
My editing project is due in two hours. But my mind keeps drifting. I can’t seem to keep it on task. My thoughts snap back to Luca. His blue eyes with a splash of green just like the Sea of Cortez. His thick, curly hair—tousled and messy. I kept wanting to brush a curl away from his eyes. The man has lips to die for. His mouth, surrounded by deep dimples, is so thick and sumptuous. I fantasize about kissing that sexy mouth of his, about touching those dimples, which deepen whenever he smiles. What’s wrong with me? No more men is the game plan for my new life.
I swam away from Luca when I
first saw him. Why didn’t I just stay away? Complete insanity compelled me to swim back and talk to him. I’ve been just fine here on my own. Swimming, working, hanging out with my new friends, grocery shopping, and generally enjoying life without any romantic hassles to get in the way. Why, oh, why did I have to get myself into this mess? I see one random, hot-looking guy on the beach and swim straight toward trouble.
Luca was dangerous enough from far away. He is large and powerful. Talk about ripped pecs. But up close, I sensed a vulnerability in him I didn’t expect. And the chemistry between us is completely insane. Off the charts. His hot body and Spanish accent are hard enough to take. Touching him pushed me over the edge. The instant we shook hands, a current of desire ripped through my veins.
I only talked to him for a few minutes, yet all these erotic thoughts about him keep racing through my brain. I imagine touching his face, kissing his distracting, swollen-looking lips. It’s true, the man is damn distracting. Any woman with a pulse would react to his looks. He could be a movie star or a cover model. Or an elite athlete with that powerful, muscular body. I’m sure he could be with any of the dozens of gorgeous young Mexican women on this beach. Instead, he was all alone—and seemed thrilled to talk with ordinary me.
I wipe Luca’s exquisite face from my mind long enough to work through another ten pages of text. Then once again, my thoughts dance away from the screen. I offered to teach hot-looking Luca to swim. He’ll be half naked. And wet. In waves that might knock him right into me. I’ll never be able to focus. I can’t focus now and he’s not even near me.
I reprimand myself for my undisciplined thoughts. I need to finish this client’s work. I’m a reliable and accurate professional who delivers her work on-time. Or at least I was. Now I’m a crazed woman with ADD. At least once I finish this project, I can do my morning swim. That’s what I need now to clear my head.