Soaring (The Vivienne Series Book 5)

by Karen Gordon

  He takes the coffee pot back into the kitchen then leans on the edge of the counter. “I’m going to get a shower and a few hours sleep, but if you want me to take you to a few places later, I’ve got time.”

  My knee-jerk response is to turn him down. I don’t want to be a burden. I’ve got this. I’ll take care of it myself. Blah, blah, blah. But that’s not what I want. I want more time with him. I want to spend an afternoon driving around New Orleans and learning more about his quirks and habits, likes and dislikes, past and his secrets. So I accept his offer. I go after what I want (and thank Mikel for the lesson). “That would be great. Thanks.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  After talking at breakfast I can’t say I feel one iota less lust for Sebastian, but I do feel a little less awkward being around him. It helps that he gave my busy brain so much to chew on. I’m fascinated by his relationship with the married woman and dying to know more. Like, do I still have a chance with him?

  We dance around each other in the small space, alternating our time in the bathroom. He’s thoughtful, one of the most thoughtful men I’ve ever met. He lays out clean towels for me and wipes all the steam off the mirror after his shower. I still don’t know if this is just him or if I should interpret it as him putting his best foot forward because he’s interested in me. If she’s married does that mean he dates other people?

  I work for a few hours while he sleeps but it’s hard to concentrate. The detective (or snoop) in me wants to look up more info on his married lover but I’d die if he woke up and caught me. Which brings me to the other idea niggling at my brain. I want to look in on him sleeping. Weird, I know, but I can tell a lot about how a person sleeps. Like, what is he wearing? Or not wearing? Bundled up or stretched out? Relaxed or agitated? A person is the most open and vulnerable when they are asleep.

  His bedroom door is open slightly and I’m itching to wander by and peek in. I don’t want to be too obvious so I slowly walk over to the couch, glancing briefly to my right just as I pass his door.

  And…jackpot. He sleeps naked. I feel a little like a creeper looking at him now but I write this off to detective work. I think sleeping naked is a sign of sensuality, openness, and comfort with your body. And, damn, he does have a body he should be comfortable with. (Although it would make me anything but comfortable.) He’s also sprawled out diagonally, taking up both sides of the bed. A good sign. No one who is used to having another person in bed with them sleeps that way. He’s used to sleeping alone. (Definitely something I’d like to fix.) I’m about to move on before I get caught when I do.

  He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. I can’t either. I’m caught and mortified. Heat pricks at my cheeks and I’m sure they are glowing red. He just smiles slowly at my embarrassment.

  “Hey.” His voice is calm and casual, like this is more interesting than humiliating.

  I open my mouth to reply but I can’t. Nothing comes out. I don’t have an excuse and he doesn’t seem to be looking for one.

  “Been there long?” He’s teasing me now, making this so much worse.

  “No I was just…” I point toward the couch, indicating that was the direction I was headed in. “Your door was…”

  He smiles again at my stammering. “You want to come in?”

  YES! Oh, god yes! Please! “What? I…um…what?”

  “Come join me.” He scoots over so there is now an open side to the bed.

  My overthinking goes into overdrive. Should I? Could I? For what? Do I assume sex? What if it’s not for sex and I make a complete fool of myself? What if it is for sex? That’s good, right? Or wrong? I just met him yesterday. I’m not sure where this falls in the rule book. But really, what rule book? Do I want to follow a rule book? Lucca told me not to follow the rules.

  I’m glued to my spot on the floor with indecision. Sebastian patiently watches me. I must amuse the hell out of him; the flustered weird woman hosting a debate in her head.

  I finally move tentatively forward, making it as far as the door frame. I timidly push the door open a little more so I can talk to him. “I, uh…I don’t jump into things easily. I’m kind of an over-thinker.”

  “Then don’t jump. Come have a seat.” He pats the open spot next to him.

  I smile at his joke and take a seat on the far edge of the mattress from him; one foot firmly planted on the floor.

  “What time is it?” He glances up at the drapes pulled over the window, trying to gauge the angle of the sunlight. A beam shines right across his face, illuminating his beautiful eyes. I’m mesmerized.

  When he looks at me I look away and say. “Around one or one thirty.”

  “You ok?” It doesn’t sound like he’s mocking me. There’s concern in his voice.

  I still can’t look at him so I talk to my lap. “It’s just…I mean…you’re naked.”

  “Yeah I am. You could join me if that would make you more comfortable.”

  I laugh at this idea.

  “Was that funny?”

  I nod, still chuckling.

  “Why?” The mood of our breakfast earlier returns, like he really wants to get to know me. Like, despite the fact we are in the odd situation right now he would be happy to just talk to me.

  “I’m trying not to be, but I’m probably one of the most uptight, regimented people you will ever meet.” I risk a glance at him. It has the same heart-stopping effect that’s tempered by his look of open interest. “It would take a loooong time for me to feel comfortable naked with you.”

  “Why, you’re beautiful?”

  It’s a matter-of-fact statement that, coming from him, makes my heart flutter. “It’s not that, really. I’m fine with the way I look.” I sit a little taller, knowing we both like my body. “It’s just…well, I’m like a chess player. I can’t make a move unless I’ve calculated how that move will affect my end game, what the potential risks are, the other player’s game.”

  He raises his eyebrows then lies back on the pillow to process my tangled answer. “That is a lot.” He breathes deep then adds. “No wonder you’re so successful.”

  He sees me as beautiful and successful, not neurotic and odd. It’s like he knows exactly what to say, what I want to hear.

  “Do you have answers to all those questions?” I don’t think he’s making fun of me. I think he honestly wants to know.

  I shake my head. “Not yet.”

  “Ok well, maybe I can help you with a few. Hmmm, your end game. I don’t know what your end game is, but I can tell you mine, at least for now.” He looks up at me. “I don’t always plan very far ahead.”

  I smile and nod and he goes on. “I’m not looking to get married. Everyone seems to think I’m at an age when I should but...” He shakes his head.

  “How old are you?” I stop him because this is another one of those things I feel like I should know. A number I need to plug into my potential-for-sex formula.

  “Thirty-two. You?”

  “Twenty-seven.” I don’t elaborate. I want to hear more of his answers.

  “Ok then, risks. There are some but there’s always some. I can tell you that I’m clean. I’ve even got papers to prove it.”

  “You do? Why?” This isn’t something I have or see a reason to have.

  He hesitates to formulate a deliberate answer. The pause worries me. “It’s part of the whole thing with…”

  Oh, married woman. Now that she’s here too I feel like I can bring her up. “Which brings us to part three. What’s your status? Does she consider you hers?”

  There’s no delay when he shakes his head. “No. She and I are just temporary. It’s just gone on longer than I thought it would.”

  He’s answering me honestly, but I still feel like there is something he is holding back, something about her. It probably has to do with her being married so I let it go for now. He’s back to studying me intently, searching my face for some answer, so I offer him some. “My turn huh?”

  “That’d be nice.”

/>   “Ok, my end game.” I’m cramped from sitting scrunched up so I relax and stretch both my legs out in front of me and lean back against the head board. I think I can trust myself enough now not to suddenly start grabbing at him. Maybe. I stare up at the ceiling, trying to decide what to say. “I used to have an end game.” My honesty surprises me. This is stuff I’ve thought about but never voiced. “I had it all planned out, the neighborhood, the house, car, husband.”

  “You were married?”

  “No, never got that far. It seems I forgot to let him know that he was part of my happily-ever-after. He made other plans.” It still hurts to think about Danny or more accurately my crushed plans. I thought I was over it. “So many things changed, fast, in the past year and a half. My dad died.” Sebastian reaches out and puts his hand over mine. “My dream man left, my best friend got married, I lost my job then got another…” I’m starting to get lost in my own drama so I pull myself back. “Sorry, long answer, but right now I don’t really know my end game, oddly enough.”

  He laces his finger with mine. “That’s fair. Sounds like you’ve had a lot going on.”

  His understanding brings a flood of emotion. I’m not used to someone understanding me or taking the time to try. But I push it down. I’m not ready to feel that much for this man yet. “Ok number two, the risks.” I shake my head and laugh. “I don’t know what to tell you.” I look at him to stress my point. “I’m not an easy person to be around. Just being around me might be considered a risk.” This makes him smile, like he possibly already started to figure that out. “I’m clean, I guess. Honestly, I haven’t had to think or deal with that for a long time.”

  “A long time?” He presses me to be more specific.

  “Six, no seven months ago.” I try to remember when I had my tantric encounter with Pete and really whether that technically counts in this case. No bodily fluids were exchanged. I shrug. “What can I say, I work, a lot.”

  “And what is your game Vivienne Ramsey?”

  He knows my last name. I question why with my eyes.

  “It’s on your business card. You left some out on the table last night.”

  So he was doing a little research on me too. Nice. “My game, when it comes to men, doesn’t really exist. I have yet to figure out how to make things work.”

  He shifts so his whole body is facing me now. “Maybe you don’t need to figure it out. Maybe you just need to feel and trust that.”

  His accurate honesty is a punch in the gut. I feel exposed so I pull my hand from his and I stand up. “I need to get going. I’ve got to go see some of these places for my step-mom and visit her.”

  He stands up too, completely comfortable being naked in front of me, so much more open than me. I turn to leave but he steps in front of me before I can. I look down to avoid his stare and find myself looking right at his cock. So I look up and past him and try not to blush. Damn I wish I didn’t want him so much.

  He takes my hand again and asks quietly, “What do you feel?”

  I still can’t look at him. “Too much, lost, adrift.”

  He pulls me in close and holds me to him. My face is against his chest and I can smell his skin and feel its warmth. It’s intoxicating. I don’t hug him back but I don’t pull away. “If you feel adrift let me anchor you, for now, until we both have to leave and go back to work.”

  I love his poetic offer but I’m too overwhelmed to answer. Instead I just let myself soak in his hug, so intimate and caring.

  He pulls away first but kisses me on the forehead before letting me go. “I’ll get dressed and take you to look at respite places then drop you at the hospital.”

  I nod and reply, “Thank you.” It’s hard to speak past the ball of emotions still lodged in my throat. A few days of this man may be all I can take.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “So how do you know Dr. Tilford?” We’re driving through downtown in his car, an older SUV that’s full of his stuff. Before I could get in he had to clean off the passenger seat, putting piles of books and several tool bags in the back. He’s definitely not a neat freak. The console between our seats is littered with old coffee cups, receipts, and what looks like his medicine cabinet. There’s a bottle of cologne, a tube of toothpaste, a hair brush and a deodorant in the largest compartment.

  “Fishing, neighbors; he has a place on the same lake that I do.”

  “So how did he know you would be ok with me staying with you?” It didn’t sound like they are particularly close.

  Sebastian turns to look at me briefly and smiles. “He’s got eyes.”

  I’m charmed by his answer but I want to dig deeper. “Does he know about her?” I still don’t know the married woman’s first name.

  He quickly replies. “No.” But then reconsiders. “Well, maybe now, after that magazine.” He shakes his head and breathes out his frustration then changes the subject. “Tell me more about selling supersonic jets.”

  Between facility tours I tell him about my job. I gloss over how I got it, not wanting any mention of Jack to invade my time with Sebastian. I do tell him about meeting Annalize who he admits to knowing through her films. I love the look on his face when I tell him that not only have I seen her movies, I’ve watched one being filmed. I leave off that I only saw the tame scenes. I’ll let his imagination go wherever it wants.

  We connect over travel because we both pretty much live on the road. He’s only in New Orleans now to help his sister during Mardi Gras. He leaves at the end of the week for a month of line repair work for the power company then he’ll be working out of Gulfport on and off, flying to offshore rigs for an oil company. I tell him about my client waiting to meet with me in Montreal and needing to connect with another client from Silicon Valley who is currently in Vietnam. I leave Evan nameless, not wanting him on my mind today either.

  I really love the first place we see but Sebastian insists we visit two more so I’m sure I’ve picked the best one. He actually encourages me to do thorough research. Does he have any idea how much that turns me on?

  After we decide on a place he takes me to the hospital, stopping only briefly with me in Carla’s room to meet her. Then he excuses himself to go find Dr. Tilford and let Carla and I talk.

  “Mmm hmm.” Carla gives me a knowing look once he’s out of the room.

  I can’t help but smile. She’s right. There is definitely something between us; I just don’t know what yet. “I know.” I giggle like a school girl. “He’s…” I search for the words. “Wow.”

  She agrees and ads. “And he clearly thinks the same of you.”

  I want her analysis. “Really? Why do you say that? He was only here for a minute.”

  “The way he looks at you. He can see what a catch you are.”

  “That’s just it. I don’t think he wants to be caught. He pretty much told me, I think.” I try to piece together all he said in our conversation earlier. “And he’s got this girlfriend, sort of.”

  She shrugs the other woman off. “That may be but he’s definitely interested in you.”

  I turn the conversation to her being released tomorrow and give her a rundown of all her care facility options. In the end she only wants to know what I think because she says she completely trusts my judgement. I appreciate her confidence in me because I think I’m still getting over how everything I did for Jack was questioned or dismissed. I had started to doubt myself, my judgement and my skills during my Jack phase.

  Sebastian comes back with Dr. Tilford and we all go over the plan for tomorrow. The hospital discharge representative will make all the arrangements with the respite facility and I can come help Carla move after lunch. The entire time we are planning Carla keeps glancing at Sebastian, who is leaning in the doorway and evidently watching me. Occasionally she catches my eyes and lets me know he is still looking. I definitely get that he is interested, but in what? This feels so much more intense than some one night stand.

  ✈　✈　✈

 
We all leave when Carla’s dinner arrives. On the way back to his car Sebastian starts debating places he wants to take me for dinner. He’s tossing names at me, none of which I know, so I tell him, “I’d really like to just go someplace casual or maybe even pick something up and go back to the apartment.” I’ve been up since we had our predawn breakfast and I’m starting to wear out. And there’s also the fact that I’d like to be alone with him. If anything is going to happen between us, it won’t happen in a restaurant.

  Before we begin driving he makes a call and asks me, “What kind of po boy?” as he listens to ringing.

  “Shrimp, no oyster, no…”

  He smiles at my inability to make a fast decision and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it . I got this.” When the restaurant answers he orders two peacemakers and a bunch of sides. It all sounds heavenly. He finishes it off by asking them to throw a six pack of some local beer on the order. I’m normally not a beer girl, but ice cold beer would be perfect with spicy Cajun food.

  When we get to the apartment with our food he asks me to set it all out on the table while he goes downstairs to get something. He comes back up carrying a mysterious white bowl with a cover on it so I can’t see what’s inside. I try to peek but he pulls it away before I can.

  I dive into my peacemaker, and the fries, slaw, hushpuppies, Cajun rice, and beer, moaning the entire time because everything is so good. He’s back to watching me intently, and it drives me to ask. “What?” I take a drink of beer and push for an answer with my eyes.

  He shrugs like he has no idea what I’m talking about.

  “You keep watching me, studying me. It’s not my imagination. Why?”

  He goes back to silently looking at me and I think I’m not going to get an answer when he finally replies. “You fascinate me.”

  I almost choke on my sandwich I’m so shocked by this answer. I don’t fascinate anyone. I’m me—plain, although weird, Vivienne. “I what?”

  “You fascinate me. I’m going to be sorry to see you leave.”