by Ju Ephraime
Like a drug addict, after that first glimpse of her, he was unable to stay away from the café. He went every day, though he was careful to keep himself hidden so he could observe her without her knowledge.
He couldn’t get over the changes in her. Two years had made quite a difference in her. She was more poised, more polished. When he had first met her, she’d been young, innocent, and carefree, but even then, she had a strong sex appeal; now that appeal had matured into something powerful.
He watched her walk as she entered the café most mornings. She moved with a sexy sway of her hips, her strides measured and controlled, her gorgeous legs reminding him of the things she could do with them.
She hadn’t walked that way before. Where had she learned that walk? It was as if she had her own internal music going on. She rolled into the walk, and the sexuality she wore like a robe had him squirming. He feared he wouldn’t be able to resist her if the opportunity presented itself. He still wanted her so much it was painful.
Every night he awoke drenched in sweat from one of his frequent dreams about Therèse. In those dreams, he was back inhaling her unique scent, which always had a powerful effect on him. In those dreams, his response was primal and explosive, almost savage in its intensity. Nothing and no one but Therèse could do this to him.
He could barely control his curiosity regarding her return to Martinique. Unfortunately, he couldn’t solicit Wolfe’s help. Wolfe did not like Therèse because in his opinion, she had almost destroyed Foxx when she’d rejected him.
Nevertheless, not knowing why she was on the island was taking a toll on him. He couldn’t continue having those dreams; they interrupted his sleep and ruined his days. He was getting damn tired of going around like a bear with a sore head.
He asked himself numerous times why he had to fall in love with this particular woman. Why couldn’t he just put her out of his mind? If he were being honest with himself, he would have acknowledged it was because she completed him in a way that scared him. She was his better half. He loved everything about her, from her smile to the way she’d given herself to him in total surrender. She’d held nothing back. It was little wonder he’d been craving her touch for two years.
Two long years, and now she was within touching distance, and he didn’t know how to initiate that touch. He didn’t know how to approach her because he was afraid of her rejection. He’d survived it once; he didn’t think he could survive it a second time. This more than anything gave him the strength to stay away from her, to admire her from a distance.
He believe what he was experiencing was like living between heaven and hell. He was in heaven when he saw her or imagined being back together with her and in hell when he thought of her rejecting him again. The very thought of her rejection played havoc with his emotions. He’d been constantly asking himself how he could love someone so much that it sometimes bordered on hate.
He had to admit there was indeed a fine line between love and hate, and for the moment, he felt as if he really did hate Therèse. She affected every aspect of his life. He was constantly late for soccer practice, thinking about her. He could not afford to be late for soccer practice because this was the only thing that kept him sane. Dribbling a ball in practice or acting as goalie offered the only times he was able to take his mind off Therèse.
Looking back, he credited his sanity to the physical outlet that playing soccer afforded him. He was able to immerse himself in the sport, practicing until near exhaustion, so at night, he was able to get a few hours of sleep when his body gave out on him. Without the physical and mental demands that practicing and playing the sport demanded of him, he doubted very much he would have been able to get through those very dark days and nights.
chapter
ONE
Foxx grabbed a bottle of Gatorade, a face towel, and his cleats. He decided against driving to the ballpark, feeling a run would do him good, so he took off. In no time, the problem of Therèse receded from the forefront of his mind, and he was able to lose himself in the run. That was until he went by a location that reminded him of her.
Next to soccer, running was his favorite thing, yet he would have gladly left it all behind to accompany Therèse. He chastised himself for once again thinking about her. He could not even take his mind off her long enough to enjoy his run.
He increased his speed, pounding the pavement with the force of his anger toward himself. He needed to take his mind off Therèse; she was like a disease in his blood, and like a disease, he needed to rid himself of her. He found he had to concentrate in order to maintain his running speed, but no amount of self-recrimination was working.
He had slowed down to a jog without realizing it. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t even complete his usual run because of this woman. For the umpteenth time, he asked himself why she had returned to the island. He had to find out what her motive was, and he had to do so soon.
He stopped running and called Clayton, the man he had watching her. Though Clayton owned the cafe on the pier, he freelanced as a private investigator. He knew Clay would call him if he had any new information, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Hi, Clay, how’s it going? Do you have any news?”
“Huh, you mean since I spoke with you earlier today?”
“Don’t be a smart-ass. Do you or don’t you?”
“I don’t know how much good this is, but I do know where she’ll be this evening. Do you want this piece of news?” Clay asked.
“Stop being an ass. Where will she be?”
“I didn’t think you’d want this information because it wasn’t what you requested. I’m still not able to find out why she’s here on the island. That’s what you wanted, right?”
“Clay, if you value your life, you’ll give me the information you found out about her plans for tonight.”
“Okay, okay, you don’t have to threaten me. I overheard her conversation with one of the guests at her hotel. She told him she would be going to La Fête de la Musique. She wanted to know if he would be going.”
“She was talking to a man, asking him about going to La Fête de la Musique? Why?”
“You’re not asking me this, are you, Foxx? I just told you what I overheard. I have nothing else to give you.”
La Fête de la Musique, he thought. He had always enjoyed the celebration. It highlighted the traditional music of Martinique with free concerts performed in the streets throughout the island.
“I hadn’t planned on attending any of the activities because I have a game tomorrow, but I believe I’ll put in an appearance at the celebration closest to her hotel. Thanks, Clay.”
“Don’t thank me. I didn’t give you anything. Now if your trip tonight turns out to be fruitful, if you know what I mean, then I will graciously accept your thanks in the form of greenbacks.”
“Later, man, you’re just too much. Have you forgotten who’s paying you?”
“You never let me forget,” Clay replied and hung up the phone.
Foxx stood in the same spot for a good five minutes, trying to formulate a plan of action for the evening. For the life of him, he couldn’t think of anything that would not make him look as if he were pining after Therèse, not that he wasn’t, but she didn’t need to know that.
He continued with his run because now he was definitely late for practice, but oh boy, better late than never.
He ran straight to the field and changed from his running shoes to his soccer cleats. In two minutes, he was sitting on the bench, waiting to be called into the game, which had started ten minutes before he arrived.
He tried to participate in the camaraderie and fun the other players on the bench were having, throwing jokes back and forth, but he found he couldn’t even pretend to be the least bit interested in their silly jokes. He would have to do better than this if he wanted to participate in the game.
“Number 41. Number 41, you’re in.”
The umpire sounded impatient, and Foxx had the feeling he’d bee
n calling his number for a while. Glad he had been signaled into the game, he jumped up from the bench and took his place on the field.
There was something about running and kicking that ball that transformed him, took him out of himself. For the next thirty minutes, he forgot about his situation with Therèse and concentrated on the game. Concentration was necessary if he didn’t want to suffer an injury as a result of inattention.
When the referee’s whistle blew, signaling the halftime break, for once he found he was grateful for the reprieve. Even though the break was only ten minutes, he really needed it because he was not performing at his best. He could hold his own with the other players, but he was usually better than this and his reflexes much quicker.
The game resumed fast and furious, and it took all his concentration to keep the other side from scoring a goal. The game ended with the score at six to zero. He sure was happy to see the end of this game.
One of his teammates offered to give him a ride home, but he refused it. He wanted, no, needed, the run. He felt full of energy all of a sudden, and running allowed him to think. Besides, had he accepted the ride, he wouldn’t have been good company.
He came up with one plan after another in his quest to meet and have a constructive conversation with Therèse. He’d only been close to her once, in the shop on the pier when he was with Daphne, who was now Wolfe’s wife.
He’d been so taken aback by seeing Therèse that he didn’t know how to react. In a sense, he'd been caught with his pants down. He didn’t want that to be the case when he met her again.
What he couldn’t decide on, however, was whether he should pretend to be cool and uninterested or if he should allow her to see how much her presence on the island affected him. He had never before felt so inadequate. He had to keep reminding himself he was a man, and as such, he should snap out of it.
chapter
TWO
He made it home with just enough time to shower, grab a bite to eat, and dress for his much-anticipated meeting with Therèse. He was functioning on pure adrenaline, like a teenager on his first date. He was so stressed out he was talking to himself while he got dressed. His bed was littered with the outfits he had tried and discarded.
He didn’t want to appear too formal or too casual. Everything he tried on didn't feel right. In the end, he settled for some loose-fitting jeans with a T-shirt. Therèse had always liked him in those jeans because she could fit her hand in his pocket and tease him with the old saying, “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” And he would proceed to show her just how happy he was to see her. It had been a huge joke between the two of them.
He timed his arrival before everything was to begin so he could get a good vantage point to watch the people as they arrived for the concert.
The band was tuning up just as he arrived, and he positioned himself behind the screen with a beer in hand. He was friends with several of the band members, so they didn't pay much attention to him after exchanging a brief greeting.
Just as the band began playing the opening notes of the first song, he thought he spotted Therèse in the crowd, but when he looked closer, he realized he was wrong.
Three times he thought he saw her before he finally had to tell himself to stop it. He was turning into a nervous wreck because every light-skinned woman he saw made him think he’d found Therèse.
Finally, he saw her. He’d been talking to one of the band members, not actively scanning the crowd, and then he just happened to turn around. There she was.
Foxx couldn’t take his eyes off her. His gaze fixed on her breasts, which he could see through the thin white blouse she was wearing. Her nipples were clearly outlined. She was wearing one of those lacy numbers that could barely hold her full bosom.
As she began walking in his direction, he had to force himself to blink, moving his eyes from her breasts to meet her gaze when she gave him one of her dazzling smiles. He found himself hauling in a deep breath, and it was only then that he realized he’d stopped breathing as he waited for her reaction.
The dazzling smile she rewarded him with more than made up for his discomfort. He walked up to her and had to stand very close in order to make himself heard over the music from the band.
“Hi, Therèse. If memory serves me right, you left the island some time ago. I’m surprised to see you here.” Liar!
“Hi, Foxx,” she responded, “why not? You know I like the island’s music, and with the musical festival coming up, I thought it a great opportunity to return for a visit.”
“You like island music? I thought there was nothing about the island you liked.”
“What gave you that idea? I’m here, am I not?”
“Come to think of it, why are you here?”
“You are no doubt dying to know.”
“Not dying, but very close to it. So, are you going to enlighten me?”
“I’d have thought you would have figured it out by now.”
“No, where you are concerned, Therèse, I don’t try to figure things out because I’m often way off the mark.”
“You’re never off the mark, not with me anyway.”
The double entendre resonated in his groin. Why was she doing this to him? Why was she treating him as if nothing had happened between them and the hurt and pain of her rejection were figments of his imagination?
He didn’t want to reopen old wounds. He wouldn’t step into whatever opening she was directing him to without knowing the outcome from the get-go. He was not the same young man she had put through the wringer.
No, this time, he would know all the rules, or he was going to refuse to play. There was no denying it was killing him to know exactly what her intentions were when he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and make her feel her effect on him. Still, he managed to rein in his wayward thoughts and took a firm hold on his emotions. This time he chose to err on the side of caution.
chapter
THREE
Having succeeded in pulling his mind out of the gutter, where it seemed determined to go, any time he was around her, he schooled his face to mask what he was feeling. Foxx spoke in as conversational a tone as he could manage, given the circumstances, and attempted to question her again.
“Again, I would like to know, why are you back on the island? As I recall it, Therèse, you couldn’t leave fast enough. So what brought you back?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she replied flirtatiously.
Her whole attitude began to seriously annoy him. He was not in the mood to have this conversation with her. He wasn't in the mood to accept her behavior as if they were old friends who hadn’t seen each other for a couple of weeks and were just catching up. He most certainly was not playing that game.
He’d turned to walk away when he felt her hand on his shoulder and froze. He didn’t want her touching him, not now, not here where they were surrounded by people, and especially not until he found out why she had returned to Martinique.
He told himself, if she was back on business, he would keep his distance. If she’d come on vacation, he was not going to pick up where they’d left off.
If she wanted an island fling, he flat-out refused to allow himself to be used in that way.
Yes, half a loaf was better than none, but in this instance, he’d have none. He’d choose starvation rather than partake of her particular loaf.
Having come to that decision, Foxx took a deep breath to steady himself and turned to her with what he hoped was a deadpan expression.
“Therèse, I’m not in the mood. If you would rather not have this conversation, I’ll respect your wishes. After all, it is your business.”
Therèse tried to appear nonchalant as she turned to face him, but underneath the façade, excitement drummed through her body. She felt as if she had a live wire running through her. That was the effect Foxx’s presence had on her, but she didn’t want him to know it. She didn’t want him to sense how completely he had p
ossessed her, from their first encounter to this moment. She had no intentions of allowing him to see how much she had missed him from the last time until now.
It had been possible that she would run into him at the festival, but she didn’t want to build up her hopes, only to have them dashed.
Since her arrival on the island, she had hung out where she and Foxx used to hang out, but so far, her attempts to see him had failed, with one exception. She had thought the fates were smiling on her when she’d run into him at the café the morning after her arrival, but since then, she’d not caught a glimpse of him.
She hadn’t expected him to welcome her with open arms, but she’d thought he would have at least tried to contact her. The LaCasses knew everything that took place on that part of the island. They had connections everywhere.
Two months had now passed, and she hadn't heard from him. As a matter of fact, she believed he’d gone out of his way to avoid her, which was why she had decided to take the bull by the horns and attend the musical concert.
She told herself if she saw him with someone, another female, she would return to her hotel without making her presence known. But when she’d seen him in conversation with one of the band members, she had snuck up on them and positioned herself where he had to see and acknowledge her.
She had marveled at how easy it was to spot him among the huge crowd of people who had turned out to attend the concert. Foxx was not difficult to spot; he stood out in a crowd without even trying.
To begin with, he was taller than the average native islander. There was a slight red tint to his hair, which he wore short to control its tendency to grow into wild curls. His features were blunt and strong. His wide-bridged nose sat with perfect balance between the distinct planes of his high cheekbones.
Overall, his features were too strong to be considered handsome, but his wide hazel-green eyes, surrounded by extremely long, curling lashes, and his full sensuous lips, which he’d worry with his teeth any time he was thinking hard about something, could only be described with one word. Gorgeous! Just gorgeous! With the confident way he carried himself, the package could only be described as lethal.