by Alexia Adams
“Mohan, move over, please. Lalita, come sit beside me,” Aisha directed.
Mohan stood and changed places with Lalita. “You should come and see also, Jeremy.” Aisha patted the sofa beside her. Jeremy’s eyes caught Lalita’s as he moved as directed. His gaze was full of compassion and reassurance. What would she have done without him? What was she going to do without him?
She wasn’t given time to think about that, though, as Aisha opened the album. The first page was a copy of Lalita’s birth certificate, showing Julia Evans as her mother.
“When I went to the hospital, I used your mother’s identification. I am sure the doctors and nurses knew I wasn’t Julia Evans. However, money bought a lot of silence in those days,” Aisha explained. “Julia wanted to name you Jennifer, but I insisted you be called Lalita. I wanted you to have at least one thing from your Indian heritage.”
The next page was full of pictures of a new-born baby, held by Aisha, held by Julia, and by John. The following photos Lalita had seen before. Pictures of her sitting up, walking, feeding herself, first days at school, etc. Each page also held an envelope with a letter from Julia detailing Lalita’s adventures and mishaps.
“I can’t believe she sent all this to you,” Lalita said some time later. Jeremy was engrossed in the file, often asking Aisha for clarification on some of the photos.
“Julia Evans is your mother in every way but one, Lalita. I don’t want your finding out about me to change the way you think of her. She is your mother, I am your Aisha.”
Lalita stared at the woman next to her. She was so generous, so understanding of other people. Lalita wished she’d inherited some of those qualities in addition to her Indian name.
“And now we will have something to eat,” Aisha declared.
It seemed both her mothers had a ‘resistance is futile’ voice.
Chapter 9
Lalita stood in the hotel lobby as if unsure as to how she’d got there. The two-hour taxi ride from Aisha and Mohan’s house had been conducted in near silence. Jeremy had held her, letting her rest her head on his shoulder.
“I think you need a drink,” Jeremy said, steering her toward the hotel bar and away from the lifts to the rooms.
The rich mahogany furniture glowed in the dim light. Candles flickered on the tables, the flames danced when they passed. Jeremy chose a loveseat in the corner, where he could keep holding her. By now it had nothing to do with offering her comfort or support; he wanted her in his arms.
The waitress approached, and he ordered two brandies. Lalita rested her head on his shoulder and Jeremy took a deep breath, letting her scent invade his body. A few minutes later, their drinks arrived.
Lalita took a sip and shuddered. She put the glass down on the table and settled back into Jeremy’s embrace.
“Do you want to talk about today?” he asked. Her silence was beginning to unnerve him. He was at a loss as to how to help her deal with the recent revelations.
“I need to think, to process. Today has been more of a shock than meeting the woman in the slum. Don’t get me wrong, I am relieved that Aisha and not that desperate woman is my birth mother. It’s just … I never considered the possibility that I was the result of my father’s infidelity.” Her voice was soft, as though speaking of the unfaithfulness aloud was almost too much to bear.
“Your father made a mistake, but he also did his best to make it right. He could easily have hidden the indiscretion from Julia, paid off Aisha, and never had anything to do with you.”
“I know, but it’s a lot to take in. I guess I can stop trying to prove I’m worthy of being an Evans.” Lalita let out a huge sigh, then seemed to come to a decision. She sat upright. “I’m going to take a few days off. Want to run away with me?”
“Yes.” Jeremy’s answer was instant and automatic. It was only after the word left his lips did he remember John Evans’ warning about getting intimate with his daughter.
Lalita dug in her bag and pulled out her phone. Two minutes later, she put it down on the table and picked up her brandy, taking another sip. She relaxed again into his arms.
“Where are we going?” All she’d said to her secretary was that she needed to get away and to email her the details when confirmed.
“A remote resort I escape to when I want to disappear from my life. There are no phones in the rooms, no internet or faxes. And just enough electricity to blend a really good cocktail at the bar.” A hint of a smile curved Lalita’s lips. “I’ll get Grace to email you the emergency contact details so you can pass them on to your mother.”
“Sounds interesting. There is one caveat, however, to my coming with you.”
Lalita sat upright, her eyes wary.
“Yes?”
“This isn’t a business trip. I’m not the Director of Marketing accompanying the Director of Asian Operations. Jeremy Lakewood is going away with Lalita Evans. On holiday. What happens will be between us and have nothing to do with Evans International.”
“Something is going to happen?” The smile that had started with the faint lifting of her lips formed into a full-on grin, taking him by surprise.
“Almost certainly.” Was he warning her—or himself?
“In that case, I’d better get my beauty sleep, while I can.” Lalita downed the rest of her drink in one swig. She put her soft, elegant hand on Jeremy’s cheek before kissing the other side of his face. “Good night, Jeremy,” she whispered in his ear.
He sat dazed as she glided from the bar, more sway in her hips than he’d seen in the past week. He could still smell the brandy from her breath. A shiver raced through his body. It hit him that he should be more worried about extricating himself from this affair, his soul intact, than keeping his job.
He let out a long sigh and finished his brandy before heading up to his room. The die was cast. It only remained to see what came of this fling. And its inevitable impact on his career.
***
“Lalita, welcome back!” The tall, blond Australian proprietor greeted her with a kiss on both cheeks. Far too friendly for a mere hotel owner and his guest, in Jeremy’s opinion.
He put down the overnight bag that had been biting into his shoulder. He was hot, sweaty, dusty, parched, and a little nauseated. They’d been travelling for over fourteen hours in various modes of transport, each one becoming less comfortable than the last. Now, seeing the tanned, fit host manhandle Lalita, his temper was about to boil over. A young, barefoot boy clad in a long skirt offered him a glass of ice water. He took it and downed it in one. It helped his thirst, but not his anger.
“Thanks for accommodating us at the last minute, Steve. I really appreciate it.” Lalita smiled up at the Australian, doing nothing to dissipate Jeremy’s ire.
“Anything for you, Lalita. You seem even more tired than usual. Come on, hand them over.” The proprietor put his palm out.
She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone and laptop, passing them to Steve. Calling over a small, dark-skinned native man, he spoke to him in the local language. The man took Lalita’s equipment and stepped into the office behind them. He returned and picked up her case and Jeremy’s bag, disappearing in the opposite direction with them.
“You’ve brought someone with you this time.” The Australian man finally acknowledged Jeremy’s presence.
“Jeremy, this is Steve Harding, the owner. Steve, this is Jeremy Lakewood.”
“Nice place,” Jeremy commented, feeling he should at least try to sound gracious.
“I hope you enjoy your stay.” Steve appraised Jeremy before turning back to Lalita.
“You’re in Villa Two. Come by and have a drink after you’ve settled in.” Steve kissed her again. Jeremy gritted his teeth.
Lalita led the way along palm bordered stone pathways to a secluded thatch-roofed villa. He climbed the five stone steps and stood on the balcony. Large date palms fringed a perfect view of a pristine white sand beach and azure water. Even the surf seemed to break at the right s
pot for a subdued crashing sound, as though designed exclusively to soothe. His anger dissipated, leaving him somewhat drained.
A wall of glass windows was open, and a gentle breeze stirred the white cotton curtains. He stepped through the door on onto highly-polished hardwood floors. Lalita had kicked off her shoes and was pulling her t-shirt over her head, revealing a white lace bra.
“My suitcase is in here.” She indicated the bedroom to the right. “I guess that means you’re sleeping in there.” Lalita nodded her head toward another room on the left before tossing her shirt on the bed and undoing the button on her trousers. “I’m going for a swim,” she declared before walking through then shutting the bedroom door.
Jeremy stared at her closed bedroom door, reenergized. She’d thrown down a challenge and every masculine fibre in his body refused to let it pass.
Before he had time to enter his own bedroom, Lalita was back, wearing a brightly patterned cover-up, a hat clutched in her hand.
“See you at the pool,” she called out as she strode from the villa, barefoot.
“Are you trying to kill me?” Jeremy asked fifteen minutes later. Lalita stood in front of his lounge chair. Rivers of water raced down her curves, taunting him. She was wearing the most provocative swimsuit he’d ever seen, although it might not be the fault of the bathing costume, but the body within.
“Whatever do you mean, Jeremy?” Lalita’s face was full of innocence. It was rather obvious the effect she was having on him. She laughed, the first he’d heard from her in too long. It was an amazing sound, but not necessarily the one he wanted to hear the most.
He willed his body to relax. Having waited five years, a few more hours would finally see the realization of his fantasies. He could hold on—he hoped.
For the moment, however, he needed to cool off. He jumped in the pool and swam ten lengths without pausing. As he emerged from the water, he caught Lalita’s warm gaze on his body. She licked her lips, whether consciously or not, it was almost his undoing.
Time to get serious.
***
Lalita swallowed. She might have thrown the gauntlet down, but now she didn’t know whether she would be able to withstand the onslaught. To remain aloof while both of them were dressed in business suits with a boardroom table between them was one thing. Scantily clad in one of the world’s most romantic locations was another thing entirely.
The muscles she’d imagined hidden under Jeremy’s clothes were nothing compared to the real deal. He always asked for the location of the fitness centre when they checked in to a hotel. Obviously, he’d made use of it. A smattering of curly, dark hair peppered his chest before forming a line over his bumpy stomach to disappear under the band of his low-riding swim trunks. She licked her lips again, her mouth dry.
“I’m thirsty. Shall we have a drink?” Without waiting for his response, she picked up her wrap and padded over to the bar. “Something pink, I think, Samuel.”
Jeremy strode in a minute later, T-shirt clinging to his wet torso, emphasizing his broad shoulders. She took a long sip of her drink, but it wasn’t the alcohol that made her head swim.
Steve appeared out of nowhere, placing a frosty hurricane glass on the bar in front of Jeremy. Expecting to hear a thank you, she was surprised at the glare Jeremy gave the proprietor.
“Where is Suzanne?” Lalita inquired after the owner’s wife.
“She’s resting. The baby is due in six weeks and she finds the warm afternoons exhausting. So she usually has a nap between three and five. She’ll be around at dinner time.”
“Suzanne is Steve’s wife, and they’re expecting their first baby.” Lalita clarified for Jeremy’s sake. He seemed to relax and took a sip of his drink.
“This is very good,” Jeremy commented. He raised his glass to the bartender.
The bartender smiled and called out something in his native language. Steve chuckled.
“He says it contains an aphrodisiac, not that you’ll need it,” the proprietor translated.
Lalita’s cheeks went warm. Innuendos were to be expected when you brought a sexy guy to a honeymoon resort and requested one cabin. Steve lounged against the bar, his eyes darting between her and Jeremy. The Australian laughed again.
“The sun will set in half an hour. Why don’t you take your drinks and go for a walk on the beach? Then, an early dinner, I think. I’ll tell the chef.” Steve whispered something in Jeremy’s ear before standing. “I need to check on my wife.”
“Shall we?” Jeremy held his hand out to her.
Lalita picked up her drink and followed Jeremy from the bar. As soon as they got to the beach, he put his arm around her waist, pulling her against him so her hip rubbed against his thigh with each step. She might catch fire, but she doubted friction would be to blame.
“What did Steve say?” Lalita took a fortifying sip of her drink. Her well-ordered life was spinning out of control. Surprising her, though, was that rather than being terrified her whole body pulsated with excitement.
“He said to take care of you. That you are special and deserve the best.” Jeremy stopped and Lalita searched his face. There was something else, but seeing a perplexed look in Jeremy’s eyes she didn’t pursue it. He was clearly battling with his own reactions to their situation.
Taking her now-empty glass from her hand, he placed it next to his on a nearby table. He tilted her face up and gazed at her for a long minute, as if memorizing her features. Then in slow motion his head descended, his lips touching hers in a gentle caress. Lalita tried to deepen the kiss, ready to be swept away by the waves of desire rolling through her veins. Jeremy resisted, however, sipping at her lips as though they were a rare vintage—unready or unwilling to give in to the need she could feel humming through his taut muscles.
“Slowly. We have all night,” he whispered. His trailed kisses across her cheek and found the sensitive spot under her ear.
His lips wandered down her neck to her collarbone before tracing their way back the way they’d come. After another long, languorous kiss Jeremy lifted his head, resting his chin on the top of Lalita’s hair as he held her close. His breathing was ragged; his pulse, next to her ear, raced. A smile curved her lips. Jeremy had won. She was at his mercy, putty in his hands. For once, losing felt like winning.
They wandered over to a hammock strung between two curving palm trees. Their bases were touching, the trunks had then grown in opposite directions until near the top they had come close again. Was it figurative of her relationship with Jeremy? The passion of five years ago had driven them apart, now they were together.
But for how long?
She shut her mind to the day after tomorrow. The day when they would have to say goodbye. His life was in London, hers in Singapore. Tonight and tomorrow were all that mattered—for now.
Jeremy stretched out on the hammock, pulling Lalita down in front of him. They lay there, swaying in the gentle breeze, watching the sun set over the Indian Ocean. As the last dying traces of pink disappeared from the sky, Jeremy stirred.
“I’m starving. Let’s eat dinner first,” he said. His husky voice was thick with restrained passion.
They managed to get out of the hammock without either of them face-planting in the sand. Torches lit the way along the beach and the path to the bungalow.
“You can have the bathroom first,” Jeremy offered as they climbed the stairs to their villa. She was surprised at his chivalry. She’d expected him to be ravishing her the moment they stepped through the doorway. Instead, he seemed determined to make her wait. What did they say about anticipation? Well, she’d had five years of it: enough already.
Dazed, she went into her bedroom, trying to think what, in her limited wardrobe, she could wear to a romantic dinner with her soon-to-be-lover. Coming to the resort had been a last-minute decision and not one she’d packed for. She stopped, surprised to find a knee-length white dress on her bed. A note lay next to it.
This helped me catch my man. Happy huntin
g, Love, Suzanne
Lalita held the dress up against her. Suzanne was the same height, however the former fashion model was less curvy. Still it should fit. Problem was that Lalita hadn’t brought any underwear that wouldn’t show. She’d have to go without; after all, it wasn’t as if she’d be cold, the heat of their earlier kiss still warmed her.
Tonight was the night; business be damned, she was going to be a woman.
***
Jeremy leaned against the bamboo balcony railing, staring into the black night. The warm breeze caressed his cold skin. He’d stood under an ice-cold shower for as long as possible, hoping to delay the moment when he burst into flames.
Steve’s parting words echoed in his brain, making his heart fibrillate. After cautioning him to take care of Lalita, he had cheekily added ‘thank you for choosing the resort for their first time.’ But it was the Australian’s closing remarks that caused the consternation. He had finished by saying that he hoped the next time they returned it would be for their honeymoon.
Jeremy dwelt for a minute on the vision of Lalita gazing into his eyes with love—glowing with the same look that was on the face of many of the newlyweds he’d caught a glimpse of wandering around the resort.
“Jeremy?” Lalita’s husky voice came to him through the warm night air. He turned. Any remaining chill on his skin was instantly replaced by molten heat. He’d been a fan of the red dress from a few nights ago. The white dress Lalita wore now was nothing short of scandalous. Fastening at the back of the neck, the soft material clung to her full, luscious breasts before plunging to a deep v, almost to her belly button. She took a step forward, and Jeremy caught a glimpse of leg almost to her hip bone. Lalita wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Damn.
He cleared his throat. Twice.
“There was a note on my bed saying dinner would be waiting for us in the yoga retreat. Do you know the way?” he managed to get out.
“Of course,” she answered. Her eyes appraised him, seeming to like what they saw. He’d been surprised to find a set of clothes on his bed when they returned from their stroll on the beach. At first reluctant to wear another man’s garments, he was now glad for the loose-fitting trousers. A certain part of his anatomy tended to expand at even a smile from Lalita.