LaCasse Family Series

by Ju Ephraime

  “I know,” Wolfe admitted. “However, I have to ask you to cover for me for a couple more weeks until Daphne leaves. If I want her to come back, I have to be with her now. I promise after she leaves you can take all the time off that you want.”

  “Hmph. Oh, all right,” Foxx said.

  “I’m sorry, Wolfe, but much as I would like to continue this conversation, I have to go.”

  “Where’re you going that’s so important?”

  “I’ve places to go and people to see.”

  Sometimes, Foxx acted like a child… “Places to go and people to see? Go on then, don’t let me keep you.”

  Wolfe got back into his vehicle and drove to his restaurant. He was so tightly wound up he didn’t double-check the menu, just glanced at it before handing it to his chef and returning home.

  He had to hurry if he didn’t want to keep Daphne waiting. He stepped into his shower with an erection that was so hard it was painful. He had to turn down the temperature of the water until it was almost frigid. This had become a habit with him now; if he hadn’t taken a cold shower the last two nights, he wouldn’t have been able to get to sleep. He was developing a serious case of blue balls.

  He arrived at her hotel well ahead of the scheduled time. So, he went to the bar to buy a drink while he waited. He was so deep in his own thoughts that he didn’t see when she entered the bar. He only became aware of her presence by the reaction of his body. When he turned to look at the source of his discomfort, he found himself looking directly into her eyes, more green than gold tonight, as they picked up the color of her emerald dress.

  God, how he loved this woman. It’s as if all his life he'd been marking time until he'd met her. He loved her with an unmatched passion, and he was going to suffer like hell when she returned to her country. His friends would say he should have known better than to get involved with a foreigner, but he’d not chosen her; fate had chosen her for him. Perhaps he should have fought it more, but he believed he’d been bitten on their first meeting.

  When he examined the situation objectively, he found he was happy when he was with her and unhappy when away from her. He found himself listening for the sound of her voice, and when she was with him, he enjoyed watching for any sign of discomfort. He had fallen hard, and he had left himself wide open. Had he been seeing someone else, it wouldn’t have been so bad. He always had more than one woman at a time. Unfortunately, after one joining with Daphne, no one else would do. He wanted her to acknowledge she felt the same way about him.

  He pulled her into his embrace and brushed his lips lightly against hers. It was meant to be a brief kiss, but she opened up to him, and he dove in without any thought of denying her. After all, he was hers, body and soul, whether she wanted to accept it or not. He recognized that now was neither the time nor the place, but he didn’t have the strength to pull away and put some space between them. He wanted to enjoy this while he had it before he returned to his home to suffer.

  Wolfe had to clear his throat several times before he was able to speak clearly. “Would you like a drink?”

  “Not really. I’m ready to leave,” she answered.

  “We are going up in the mountains. It gets chilly there at night; I think you should bring a wrap.”

  “Wait here for me, then.” She turned away, but then she turned back and kissed him again. Wolfe’s heart sang. If he were a kid, he would be jumping up and down right now, but he stood quietly and tried to control his expression, though his body was screaming for release.

  Arriving at the club, she had to ask him, “I thought we were going to Foxx’s restaurant?”

  “We were, but I changed my mind. I think you’ll enjoy this club.”

  And she did. They spent another enjoyable evening dining and dancing at the Club Groton on the northern side of the island. The atmosphere was relaxing, and the food was first-class but, in Wolfe’s opinion, not in the class of his two restaurants. She teased him about being prejudiced.

  He allowed her to make her selection from the menu and was impressed with her knowledge of the different dishes being offered. She was so young that he kept forgetting how much she had traveled. He was beginning to appreciate what a strong-willed woman she was, too. Even as his heart sank, he had to acknowledge that she really was going to keep to her plan to return to America and not succumb to his efforts to change her mind. He was also beginning to acknowledge that, quite possibly, he might have used the wrong tactic to try to convince her to stay with him.

  Daphne’s mind was in a state of flux. Initially, she accepted Wolfe’s decision to slow down the way things were progressing between them. Now that he was doing just that, she was conflicted. She missed the old Wolfe. She missed his obvious hunger for her. This more controlled Wolfe was not her cup of tea. She had to conclude, to her surprise, she liked him more aggressive and demanding. God, I’m the stereotypical woman who doesn’t know her own mind. Poor Wolfe must be just as confused as I am. He’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t.

  Could she get things back to the way they used to be? She didn’t want her last two weeks on the island to be like this; an almost-platonic relationship was too little, too late. She wanted to taste his lips, wanted to hold him close, to feel his heart beating against her chest, skin to skin. She wanted him pounding into her or rubbing inside her. She really wasn’t too particular. She just wanted him.

  She loved the ambience of the club. It was one she was used to back home. She met two couples vacationing from the U.S. who told her they were having a great time.

  After dinner, there was karaoke and dancing in a separate room, with a DJ who played a large selection of music. She was able to dance to some familiar tunes with Wolfe, who seemed to be having a good time also.

  They sat and talked with the two couples from New York. They were very friendly, but one of the wives couldn’t seem to keep her hands off Wolfe. With everything she said, she took the opportunity to touch him. Daphne could tell Wolfe was uncomfortable, but he was too polite to stop her. She had to take Wolfe’s hand and pull him onto the dance floor to remove him from her immediate vicinity.

  They remained on the dance floor, and he held her close to his body, where she could feel his erection pressing into her belly. She pretended not to notice, but it was playing havoc with her concentration. She stumbled twice, and had it not been for Wolfe, she would have fallen. She made up her mind there and then that she would ask him to take her to his home, not back to her hotel. She intended to spend the remaining time on the island in his bed, with him inside her, around her, underneath her. She wanted him in every imaginable place. She had no intention of going back to the U.S., sex-starved because of whatever point he was trying to prove, or she’d been trying to prove, or something. She was a little confused. Maybe it was the tequila. Maybe it was Wolfe.

  Whatever was confusing her, she at least had made a decision and was able to relax and enjoy the rest of the evening. She had something to look forward to. Not even the “octopus” woman could dampen her mood. She danced sensuously with Wolfe, not holding anything back. She drank three more tequilas that left her aching with need one minute then floating on air the next.

  When they were ready to leave, she couldn’t walk without holding on to Wolfe. Although he’d had several shots of Hennessey, he seemed unaffected. Could it be that he only drank the stuff he was immune to?

  “I’ll take you back to your hotel now,” he said with some effort. “You really need to sleep off all that tequila.”

  Daphne flounced into the car seat. “Scratch that. We’re going to your home.”

  “Okay,” he replied, “but it’s a long drive to my house, so sit back and relax.”

  In ten minutes, Daphne was asleep. Wolfe drove to her hotel rather than his home, with a certain part of his anatomy complaining all the way. He found her key in her bag, carried her up to her room, and laid her on the bed. He was going to undress her, but he just couldn’t, not if he had to do it and wa
lk away. So, he partly undressed her, spread a sheet over her, and left her sleeping like a baby.

  He knew she would be disappointed. He was trying to accept the fact that she would be leaving in less than two weeks. Why torture himself with something he could not have? Why have one last night and never another? He wanted all of her, or none. If he had to suffer, let the suffering begin now.

  S ixteen

  The next morning, Daphne woke with a massive hangover. She was a bit disoriented because she thought she was at Wolfe’s house. But where was Wolfe? She distinctly recalled asking him to take her to his home. This was her last coherent thought before she fell asleep, but it appeared he’d brought her to her hotel instead. She was annoyed with him and with herself because she’d overslept, and he’d ignored her request to spend the night with him.

  It was too late to go to the beach, even if she’d felt up to facing the bright sunshine. She raised her head and was almost overcome with nausea. Infinitely careful, she picked up the phone and called his house. The beeps went through her ears like knives. The housekeeper told her Wolfe had left for the day.

  She sagged back against the pillow—bad idea. She leaped up and made it to the bathroom in time to lose what little was in her stomach.

  Afterward, she felt a little better. She brushed her teeth—gently because they seemed very sensitive—and took a shower then put on a nightgown and got back into bed.

  She couldn’t totally blame Wolfe for not taking her home with him. She must have been out of it. She would call his cell later, when she felt more like herself. She went back to sleep and dreamed of crying.

  When someone knocked on her door later that day, she was still in bed. She got up to answer the door, drag­ging her robe on as she went. She was surprised to find Wolfe standing there with his bad self, looking like a million dollars.

  How does he do this? How can he look like this when I look like shit?

  “Daphne, are you unwell?”

  “Not really. Just blue, I guess. I’ll be okay in the morning. I’m going to remain in bed.”

  He looked sharply at her. “Have you had anything to eat?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You have to eat,” he said, giving her a foretaste of what being married to a restaurateur might be like. “I will call downstairs and order you a light snack. Is there something on the menu that you like?”

  “Not particularly—get whatever you think I’ll like.” She got back into bed and dragged herself to a sitting position. “Why did you bring me back to the hotel when I asked to go to your house?”

  “You were drunk. I don’t take advantage of drunken women.”

  She was suddenly furious. “Bullshit!” she yelled and winced because it felt as if needles were stabbing her in the head. “I think you’re punishing me because I have to leave.”

  His mouth twisted. “What I do to you, I do to myself, believe that. Come on, you will feel better after you have eaten. Also, I have no intentions of getting into an argument with you when you have so little time left here; it’s bad form.”

  Wolfe ordered her a soup and crackers, with some black coffee. She pulled herself together and went into the bathroom. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she saw the result of her going into a drunken stupor. As she tried to get some of the tangles out of her hair, she had to admit that it was obvious Wolfe was hurting as much as she was. But she was still resentful that he was denying her the time with him.

  After this week, she had one more week left. If he was going to carry on this way, she would change her flight, so she could leave this week. She didn’t want to get into a fight, and if this continued she feared that’s what would end up happening. She could’ve gotten into an argument with him, when he decided to bring her to her hotel instead of his home. She was just too damn mad with him at the moment to think rationally. He deliberately withholds what I want most, and now he comes offering soup. Had it been anyone else, she would have dashed the soup in his/her face. But it was Wolfe, and she was the one who was leaving him, not the other way around. He was entitled to handle it the best way he knew how.

  Determined to be pleasant, she ate the soup and drank the coffee, though none of it had any flavor. Physically, she felt a little better, but the heaviness in her spirit wasn’t going away.

  Wolfe knew she was hurting, and it broke his heart to see her so sad. But part of him said it was her choice. He offered to take her souvenir shopping in the city; the fresh air would help clear her head. Daphne didn’t seem overly excited with the idea, but she went along with it.

  He had planned on having a small party for her, but because he saw she was hurting just as much as he, he’d decided against it, opting instead to fit in as much alone time as humanly possible in the short time they had left together. He knew he was a glutton for punishment, but he valued their time together, even though it left him in physical pain.

  Daphne seemed to improve in spirits on the trip into the city. She stopped cringing at loud noises and seemed to have walked out most, if not all, of the effects of her hangover. She was a bit more cheerful and was excited about the various items she’d picked up to take back home with her. They were waiting to get some coral jewelry wrapped when she put her hand on Wolfe’s arm to get his attention. There was a woman at the next counter staring at Wolfe; although she looked vaguely familiar, she could not place her.

  “Wolfe, do you know that woman? She’s been staring at you for a while now. I believe that is the same woman I saw at the cafe on the pier when I was with Foxx.”

  Wolfe turned to look. Holy shit, it was indeed Therèse. What the hell was she doing back here? He was going to pretend he’d known she was here. He really didn’t, so it was not difficult to do. He wasn’t sure when Daphne had told him, Foxx had met a woman, he was only guessing it was Therèse by her description of the woman, and Foxx’s reaction to her. He left Daphne and walked over to her.

  “Bonjour, Therèse,” he said, making no move to touch her. “Foxx told me he saw you at the cafe, but he didn’t seem to know how to get in touch with you.”

  “Bonjour, Wolfe,” she responded. “For a moment I thought you were Foxx. I did see him once. I’m staying at the Carib Le Poch Hotel, in Fort-de-France. I have been here for two weeks now. Tell me, how is Foxx really doing?”

  “He is doing okay, I think,” Wolfe responded. He turned to introduce Daphne to Therèse. “This is my friend, Daphne, who is visiting from America. We are picking up some souvenirs for her trip home.”

  “Hi, Daphne, I believe I saw you at the cafe, a couple weeks ago with Foxx.” Therèse commented, extending her hand to Daphne.

  “Hi, Therèse,” Daphne responded, taking her hand. “It’s nice meeting you.”

  “I hope you are enjoying your time on the island,” Wolfe stated as he took Daphne’s hand and led her away from Therèse.

  “You too, Wolfe,” she responded. “Give my regards to Foxx.”

  Wolfe couldn’t help thinking that Therèse had been pretty before, but now she had a certain maturity about her that added to her appeal. Foxx wouldn’t stand a chance if he rekindled a relationship with her. Wolfe was conflicted. Should he tell Foxx where she was staying, or should he pretend he didn’t know and allow his brother to go on with his life without her complicating it again? But was it his place to interfere in his brother’s life? He would give him the information he had, and what Foxx did with it was his own business.

  S eventeen

  Daphne changed her flight to a week sooner, and in no time, it was the eve of her departure.

  He spent the last night with her at her hotel and didn’t leave until 1:30 in the morning. He was reluctant to leave, but he also did not want her to feel trapped.

  "My flight is at eleven thirty tomorrow morning. Are you still going to take me to the airport?”

  “Of course. Why did you think I’d change my mind?”

  “I didn’t think you’d change your mind. I only wanted to rem
ind you.”

  “I’ll be there, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,” he said, trying to make light of a bad situation.

  Wolfe arrived bright and early the next morning. He felt a bit awkward, but he didn’t have much to say, other than to make a comment that she seemed excited to be returning home. He felt as if someone had taken his heart out of his body and was squeezing all the life out of it. He hadn’t slept well for several days because no sooner had he fallen asleep than he would begin dreaming of making love to Daphne. Some of the dreams were so vivid that he had to get out of bed and seek some relief the old-fashioned way, but it only left him hungry for the real thing. He put off holding her until the last minute.

  “Are you all packed? Let me call a bellhop.”

  “Aren’t you going to kiss me good-bye?” Daphne asked.

  “Do you want me to?” he asked, smiling.

  “Yes! I’ve been too long deprived.”

  “I didn’t intend to deprive you, darling. I am yours. Come here, you,” he said, tightening his arms around her.

  “I’ve been trying to be strong,” he said. “But it has been very difficult, and holding you too much only further aggravated the situation. I am already missing you like hell. Promise me you will let me know if you ever want to come back to the island or if there is any way I can ever help you. All you have to do is call.”

  Daphne stood on her toes and, sliding her hand behind his head, brought his mouth down to hers. The kiss affected Wolfe like an electric shock going through his body and buzzing in his groin. He became immobilized from the pleasure of feeling her lips beneath his.

  God, her lips are so lush and delicate.