Izzy As Is

by Tracie Banister

  “Okay. I can do that. Watch this, bird.” Placing my hands on either side of Zane’s face, I pull his head toward me and eagerly capture his lips with mine, kissing him with all the emotion that’s been building up inside me since the last time we were together.

  When we come up for air a few minutes later, I declare, “I choose you,” for Z’s benefit rather than the randy peacock’s, and he caresses my cheek with his thumb while moving back in for another kiss.

  “Is he gone?” I whisper before our lips meet.

  He steals a sideways glance. “Looks like it, but I think we should make sure he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re taken.” Wrapping his arms around me, Z draws me close, crushing my breasts up against his chest where I can feel his heart thumping and his body heat seeping through the worn cotton of his T-shirt. I cling to his shoulders as his mouth explores mine once again. This might not be our first kiss, but it is the first time we’ve displayed our feelings for each other publicly, which gives me a little thrill. I want the world to know that we’re a couple now, that he’s mine and I’m his, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer—

  “We don’t need money as long as we have love, right?” I query breathlessly, looking for reassurance after detaching my now kiss-swollen lips from his. “And we won’t be cash-strapped forever. If I work hard, I can build my client list through referrals and so can you once you go solo as a photographer. You’re still planning to do that, aren’t you? Because I think you’re too talented not to, and I would totally support you. I mean, not financially, because I won’t have a steady income for God knows how long, but you could take pictures at whatever parties I’m hired to plan and hopefully we can make enough money from that to cover our living expenses. Oh, I know!” I excitedly clutch his T-shirt in my hands. “We could move in together. That way we’d only have one bill for utilities, cable, and all that other boring stuff. And you could teach me how to be thrifty because you’re good at that and I’m not.”

  Z’s lips lift ever-so-slightly at the corners. “I can’t believe after all these years of you giving me grief about the crap shack, you want to move in there with me.”

  “I’d sooner take up residence in a lifeguard stand on the beach,” I scoff. “No, dummy. I was talking about you moving into the bungalow with me. The nice thing about living there is that my sister is the landlord, so it’s no biggie if I can’t come up with the rent every month.”

  “It’s not?” Z looks skeptical.

  I shrug. “She doesn’t like it when I stiff her, but what can she do? Kick me out on the street? Ha! No way. Especially not after I saved the lives of her and her unborn child.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know if giving her a ride to the hospital when she was in labor counts as saving her life.”

  “It definitely does. And I plan to milk that selfless act of heroism until Isobel goes off to college.”

  Z shakes his head, chuckling. “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You didn’t think the love of a decent man was going to turn me into a goody two-shoes, did you?”

  “Hell no! What fun would that be?” With a smirk, Zane lifts my hand to his mouth and presses his lips to the back of it. “Will you take a ride with me?”

  I drop my hand to his denim-covered thigh. “What kind of ride are we talking about?” I wonder in a throaty voice. “Because my mind just went to a very naughty place.”

  He blushes, which is kind of adorable. “The ride I’m talking about is in the car. There’s something I want to show you.”

  “Another double entendre. If you don’t stop teasing me with those, I don’t know if I can behave myself.” I start stroking the inside of his thigh.

  Z glances around nervously, but doesn’t tell me to stop. “You do realize we’re still in a public place, and there are children around, don’t you?” He gives an embarrassed, little wave to a blond tot who’s standing ten feet away, staring at us with curiosity while licking a chocolate ice cream cone that’s melting all over his hand. (His mom’s on her cell phone and not paying any attention to what’s going on.)

  “They have to learn about the birds and bees sometime, and what better place than in the midst of all this nature?” Smiling wickedly, I slide my hand even further up his thigh.

  “And we’re leaving!” He grabs my adventurous hand (before it reaches its destination, alas), then jumps to his feet and drags me out of the gardens.

  CHAPTER 40

  “Mmmmm,” I moan contentedly as I wake up from a delightful, dream-filled nap.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” Zane greets me with a tender smile when I open my eyes to see him sitting behind the steering wheel of his Fiat.

  Oh, right; he’s taking me someplace. Not sure where since he refused to tell me no matter how many times I begged. I look over at the digital clock on the dashboard and see that we’ve been on the road for about three hours.

  “Are we almost there?” I wonder.

  “Another half-hour.”

  I groan with feeling. Long car trips are boring even when the company’s good. Gazing out the window, I take note of the options on the blue food sign on the side of the freeway.

  “There’s a Chick-fil-A at the next exit. We should get off.” I have to press my lips together to keep from cracking up at my sexual innuendo.

  Z tosses me a smirk. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

  “Is that a complaint?”

  “Definitely not, but we can’t keep making these pitstops or we won’t reach our destination by dark.”

  I should probably explain. You see, when we left Flamingo Gardens, Zane and I were both feeling pretty frisky. Delayed gratification has never been my thing, so when I noticed a Chick-fil-A on our way back to the interstate, I told Z to pull into the parking lot, which was empty. (This fast-food chain is famously closed on Sundays.) I, then, climbed on top of Z in the driver’s seat and refreshed his memory as to what transpired between us the night of the storm. The experience was so pleasurable (as well as exciting since it was broad daylight and there was a chance we could get caught) that I was keen to repeat it ninety minutes later when we were passing by Bonita Springs, home to yet another Chick-fil-A. We made good use of the Fiat’s cramped backseat that time.

  I pout prettily, letting him know I’m displeased.

  “That’s not going to work,” he declares, but his eyes keep sliding over to me. “Damn! Why do your lips have to look so bitable?”

  As his resolve is clearly weakening, I lean over the Big Gulps sitting in the cup holders between us and whisper in his ear all the things I’d like to do to him with my bitable lips if he’d just exit the freeway. He swerves into the right lane and guns it down the exit ramp so fast it’s almost comical. Men are so easy!

  * * *

  “Okay, seriously, that’s the last time until we accompolish what we set out to do on this trip,” a disheveled, flush-faced Zane tells me as he’s buttoning up his jeans a half-hour later.

  Snaking my hands around his waist, I push them up under the hem of his T-shirt and revel in the feel of his warm flesh beneath my fingertips. “It’s just impossible to control myself when you’re so good at this.” I nuzzle the hollow at the base of his throat, breathing in his clean, spicy scent, then start kissing my way up his neck. When I reach his mouth, Zane’s lips join mine in a feverish kiss and he backs me up against the beach towel-covered hood of his car where he made me climax so hard a few minutes ago I actually saw stars. (Not only did he hit my G-spot this go-round; it felt like he discovered H, I, and J while he was at it!)

  “That will . . . have to tide us . . . over for the next . . . few hours,” he says, gasping for air when he breaks apart from me several delicious minutes later.

  “Why torture ourselves, mi amor?” I graze my thumbs across his nipples, which instantly stiffen beneath the cotton. “Let’s just forget about wherever it is you’re taking me and go check into the closest Mot
el 6,” (sadly, that’s all we can afford right now), “then we can spend the next twenty-four hours in bed making up for all the sexy times we’ve missed out on these last four years. There are still some Fire & Ice condoms left in the box; it’d be a shame to let them go to waste.” I waggle my eyebrows at him and press my pelvis up against his.

  “Stop being such a temptress and get back in the car,” Z says, turning me around so that I’m facing the passenger side of the Fiat and giving me a little smack on the butt, which is bare beneath my mini dress.

  He wants me to rein in my overactive libido, then he does that? Come on!

  I reluctantly trot over to the car door, open it and lower myself down into the passenger seat, still feeling aroused from that love tap.

  “Here.” When Z returns to the driver’s seat, he fishes my black lace thong out of the front pocket of his jeans and drops it in my lap. “You should put those back on and . . .,” his amber eyes survey me appraisingly, “. . . maybe brush your hair so that it doesn’t look quite so wild and—”

  “—like I just had crazy hot sex in the great outdoors?” I run my tongue across my upper lip, savoring the taste of him which is still there. “Hate to tell you, but you’re the one who looks like he just had the best bangin’ of his life. You’ve got that dazed, I-can’t-believe-how-mind-blowingly-awesome-that-orgasm-was look in your eye, you’re covered in sweat, and your hair is tousled like someone was grabbing tufts of it while in the throes of passion.”

  “Oh, God, really?” He grabs the rear-view mirror and twists it toward him so that he can check himself out. His eyes almost bug out of his head when he sees that I did not embellish my description of his current state.

  He frantically combs his fingers through his hair while I slip my panties on. “Who are we trying to impress anyway?”

  “You’ll see,” he says cryptically.

  Why is he being so secretive? Ooooo, maybe it’s a birthday surprise! I will be turning the Big 3-0 in eleven days. I’m not sure what kind of surprise we’d have to drive such a great distance for, though. I think about it while I run a brush through my tangled hair. There’s a tortoiseshell hair clip in my purse, so I pile my hair on top of my head and ask Z if he thinks I should put it up.

  He’s got his face in front of the A/C vent, which he cranked up to try and cool himself off. “Nuh uh, leave it down.” He watches as I release the long, silky strands, letting them fall down past my shoulders. His gaze is smoldering now, and I imagine he’s thinking about how my hair feels when it slides through his fingers and across his bare skin when we’re getting busy.

  I give him a knowing smile, then reach into my purse to pull out two tubes of lip gloss. “Nooner?” I hold up the shimmery nude option. “Or Saucy Little Thing?” I show him the deep berry color.

  His right eyebrow shoots up. “Didn’t I already say ‘yes’ to both of those earlier?”

  “There’s also Candy Yum Yum,” I say as I extract a neon pink shade from my purse.

  “Christ,” Z yanks down the neck of his T-shirt and adjusts the vent so that it can blow cold air down his front, “does everything you put on your mouth have a provocative name?”

  I grin, enjoying his discomfort. “Pretty much.” I open the tube of Candy Yum Yum and swipe the applicator across my lower lip, then rub my lips together to spread the color evenly. “Come to think of it, this gloss is actually Topaz’s. I borrowed it from her the last time the two of us went clubbin’. Ooooooo, speaking of Topaz, I need to call and give her the deets on our relationship upgrade!”

  “Didn’t you already tell her what happened between us the night of the storm?”

  “Excuse you, I don’t knock boots and tell.” I pretend to be offended by the suggestion.

  Zane gives me an incredulous look.

  “Okay, so maybe I do sometimes, but I did exercise discretion on this occasion. The only person I shared with was Pilar, and that was under duress. She knew I was upset about something and she wouldn’t let up until I spilled the frijoles. Just so you know, Pilar is very pro-you. She told me money’s not important, I should follow my heart, blah, blah, blah.”

  “I owe your sister a big thank you then. Maybe I can take the pictures at Isobel’s christening.”

  “Good idea! I don’t know what the lighting will be like in that church and I don’t want some amateur getting me from a bad angle.”

  “All your angles are good,” he assures me with a loving squeeze of my knee.

  “I’d kiss you for that, but then I’d get Candy Yum Yum all over your face.”

  “And I would enjoy every second of it, but we really need to get back on the road. Why don’t you call Topaz?”

  “I’ll put her on speakerphone,” I say as I tap her name on my contacts list.

  “Hey, girl!” she answers on the second ring. “What’s shakin’?”

  The car earlier, but I should probably keep that salacious tidbit to myself. I don’t want to embarrass Z with tales of his sexual prowess.

  “There’s something I’d like to tell you and Nacho. Hold on while I patch him in.” I get our friend on the other line and merge the calls.

  “I’m at The Mud Lounge getting a treatment, so make this quick por favor.”

  Now I have a mental image of a naked Nacho (yes, The Mud Lounge is clothing optional) reclining on a lounge chair on the deck of the Standard Hotel while a bronzed, Speedo-wearing slice of beefcake slathers algae-based goop on him. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

  “Since you both have a vested interest in my love life, I thought you should know that I won’t be marrying Eduardo.”

  “Noooo!” Topaz howls in disappointment.

  “Go on,” Nacho encourages, not sounding surprised, which is odd. No doubt I’ll get the appropriate amount of shock and awe from him with my next news flash.

  “And Zane and I are a couple now.”

  “WHAT???????” Topaz screeches, and I exchange an amused glance with Z.

  “Called it,” is Nacho’s blithe response.

  “Ohmigod, you totally did!” Topaz exclaims. “I mean, we’ve both always known that Zane was in love with you, Izzy, but I had no idea you returned his feelings.”

  “You did say that love was going to sneak up on me one day, and that’s exactly what happened. I was confused about what I was feeling for a while, but then Zane and I got real with each other—”

  “Translation: they boned,” Nacho says in a droll tone. “The night of the storm, wasn’t it?”

  I gape at the phone. “How did you know that? Zane’s here with me, by the way, so he can hear whatever you say.”

  Z frowns. “You didn’t install a hidden video camera somewhere in my apartment, did you, Nacho?”

  “Please, like I want to see straight people having sex!” our friend scoffs. “I knew the two of you did the no-pants dance because you’ve both been acting so weird ever since Juanita forced you to spend the night together. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. Oooooo!” he squeals, then giggles. “That tickles, Ramón, you naughty boy. Keep doing it.”

  “Um, yeah, we’re going to let you go, Nacho. Enjoy your treatment.”

  “Toodles, chica!” He disconnects the call from his end.

  “Topaz, are you still there?”

  “Yes! And I am so, so happy about you and Zane. I think you’re perfect together. I really do. We should celebrate this! Do you guys want to meet Cole and me for drinks later? It’ll be our treat.”

  “Love to.” Especially since she’s offering to pay. “But Z and I aren’t in Miami at the mo. He’s taking me on some sort of field trip that he’s being very mysterious about.”

  “He didn’t tell you your destination?”

  “Nope, and believe me I tried everything,” I smirk at him and his cheeks pinken at the memory of what that entailed, “to get him to ‘fess up, but he was not forthcoming.”

  “Interesting. Where are you now?”

  “Uh . . .,” I look out t
he bug-splattered windshield and read the road signs. “We’re coming up on Tampa.”

  “Tampa? Isn’t that where Zane—”

  He grabs the phone out of my hand. “Great talking to you, Topaz. Izzy will call you to arrange a day and time for drinks once we’re back in Miami. Enjoy the rest of your Sunday!” He turns off the phone and stuffs it down in the space between his seat and the car door.

  I eye him suspiciously. “Why didn’t you let Topaz finish what she was saying?”

  “Might have been a spoiler. Now please refrain from asking any more questions until we get there, which will be soon, I promise.”

  I manage to stay silent for about thirty seconds. “I am going to like this surprise, right? You don’t have an ex-girlfriend who had your love child living in Tampa, do you?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Good, because I wouldn’t want to share you with a kid.”

  “Even if that kid had fifty percent of your DNA?” he wonders.

  I shrug. “I suppose that might make it tolerable.” My attention is suddenly diverted by a billboard on the side of the road. “Oh, my God! No way!” I clap my hands together with delight. “Are you taking me to Howl-O-Scream at Busch Gardens? Because I’ve always wanted to go there and that would be the best official first date ever! We can ride all the scary roller coasters, find some creepy, dark corners to suck face in while an axe-wielding serial killer is chasing us through a haunted house, and get made up to look like rotting zombies!”

  Z chuckles. “I love that that’s your idea of romance. But no, I didn’t bring you here to show you a good time at Howl-O-Scream. We can go there later if you want to, though.” He merges the car into the right-hand lane and exits on Busch Boulevard.

  “Fun! I’ll order tickets.” I grab Z’s phone, which he had stuffed in the cubby-hole beneath the stereo, and pull up the Busch Gardens’ website, where I find info about all the different thrills and chills Howl-O-Scream offers.

  “If we get the Front Line Fear Extreme passes, we’ll be like ghoulish VIPs and won’t have to queue up for any of the rides or attractions. Oh, wait, I forgot we’re poor and can’t spend our money on frivolous things now. I guess waiting in long lines and having drunk creatures of the night grope us and throw up on our feet won’t be so bad.” I expel a forlorn sigh.