Paradise Cafe

by Adrienne Staff

  They drifted to sleep, and after an hour they woke within seconds of each other, as if there were some magic connection between them now.

  Stretching, Jack untangled himself from the loose moorings of her cool, sweet limbs and walked to the window. The sky was the blue of Abby’s eyes, and beneath it the sea was streaked with color, turquoise and azure and a pale, beckoning green. A flock of sailboats lay beached at the water’s edge, sails the colors of crayons, all pointing into that perfect sky.

  “Abby, let’s go sailing!” he said, turning to smile at her.

  She waved one languid hand, a wisp of a smile on her lips. “Ohhh, come on back to bed.…”

  He strode back to her side and planted a kiss on each sleepy eyelid. “Have you ever done it on a sailboat?” he asked, a devilish light in his eyes.

  She raised one brow. “I’ve hardly ever ‘done it,’ as you so gallantly phrase it, anywhere! Certainly not on a sailboat—”

  “Then we have to! Come on.” And he was laughing, kissing her breasts, pulling her out of bed all at once.

  “Jack!” She gasped, giggling and wiggling in his arms. “Wait! Let’s save something for tomorrow!”

  “No. Let’s do everything today!”

  So in moments Abby was sitting snug against their knapsack in the bottom of a rented sailboat with a bright red sail, and Jack was whistling at the tiller as he steered them around a sandbar.

  “You’re a crazy man!” she called, loving the sure, easy brashness of the man.

  “That’s why you love me!” he said, winking, treasuring the tilt of her lovely, heart-shaped face and her smile of mock reprimand.

  He let go of the tiller to plant a kiss on her mouth.

  “Hey!” she shouted. “Keep both hands on the wheel, mister!”

  “I want both hands on you, darlin’.”

  “You had your chance, Jack Gallagher, and you chose to go sailing. So sail!” But she came and sat next to him, wrapping her arm around his good, solid waist.

  He brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her ear, the curve of her neck, the hollow of her throat. “Ummm. You are the most delicious woman.”

  “It’s this salt air. Good for the appetite,” she answered lightly.

  They sailed for about an hour, up and down the coast, watching the fish play in the rolling swells of the Gulf. Abby lay facedown on the deck, mesmerized by her own happiness. She felt the brush of Jack’s body against her own, listened to the off-key tune he whistled, smelled the pleasing, heat-baked mixture of salt, sweat, and suntan oil. She had never felt so totally relaxed, so complete, so alive.

  “Where are we?” she murmured, wanting really only to hear the sound of his voice.

  “We’re out a bit, heading north. It’s beautiful here, Abby. I can see why you love it.”

  “I love you. Only you,” she murmured, smiling dazedly.

  Jack laughed. “Love is supposed to broaden your horizons, darlin’,” he said teasingly. “And talking about horizons, do I need to worry about those clouds?” He pointed out over the water.

  Abby rolled onto her side, and then sat bolt upright. “Yikes! That’s a real storm coming, Jack. We’d better get back.”

  “Hey, you’ve been promising rain since I got here, woman—”

  “And here it comes! I mean it, Jack. You don’t know how fast the storms roll in down here. It can be wild! They come off the Gulf or the Atlantic, pound across the peninsula, and then squall out to sea. Happens like clockwork every afternoon all summer, once they get started. And today looks like the day! We’d better hurry.”

  “Okay. Don’t worry.” Jack turned the little boat toward shore, tacking back and forth to catch the rising wind.

  Abby’s practiced eye watched the narrow line of clouds rise and darken, while Jack calmly headed the sailboat in. But for every inch he gained toward shore, the wind pushed him north another two.

  “We’re not going to make it in, Abby,” he said. “I’m going to head for that island instead.”

  “Okay. Fine,” she said, holding onto the edge of the boat.

  Jack turned the boat and raced ahead of the storm, the sail straining, bellying out with the gusting wind. The first drops of rain, heavy as water balloons, splashed on their heads and shoulders. “That’s rain that wants you to sit up and take notice!” Jack laughed. He drew a quick hand down her cheek. “Don’t worry, darlin’. We’ll be fine.”

  “I know,” she said, worrying away. “I trust you.”

  He gave her a wink, and steered northeast as the squall line drew nearer, a solid curtain of rain that mocked the heavy, erratic drops that already had them both soaked. The boat leaped and jumped across the surface of the water, steadily closing the gap between them and the waiting island. As soon as the nose touched sand, Jack grabbed the bowline, jumped overboard, and yanked the boat up onto the sand.

  Abby grabbed the knapsack and scrambled onto shore. Together they pulled the boat way up past the water line as the sky opened up: Rain as sharp as needles pelted their bare skin. “Ouch!” Abby yelped.

  “Hey!” Jack shouted, laughing, holding his shirt over her drenched head. “I’ve never heard of rain that hurts!”

  She glared at him and swore. “I am marooned on an island with a crazy man!”

  Still laughing, he took her arm, and they raced toward a clump of pines and palms that offered the only hope of shelter. Underneath the trees it was wet but safe.

  Leaning against the nearest trunk, Jack looked at Abby and grinned. “Made it!”

  Abby punched him in the shoulder. “Oh, why do I always end up in these wild situations with you, Gallagher? And why do they always involve water!” She gasped, breathless and shaking like a leaf.

  “Come here,” he said, opening his arms.

  “I don’t want to ‘come here.’ ” She frowned fiercely. “I wanted to ‘come here’ back there, safe in our nice, warm king-size bed in our nice air-conditioned room. I don’t want to ‘come here’ in the middle of a rain squall, soaking wet, and probably lost to boot!”

  Jack forced back his grin, but his dark eyes still flashed with excitement. “Think of it as an adventure, darlin’.”

  “I was having an adventure! and one a day is enough for me, Jack Gallagher!”

  “One a day only counts for vitamins, darlin’. Making love’s a different matter.”

  Suddenly she felt warm and delicious from her head to her toes, but she wasn’t about to let on. “And who’s talking about making love?” she demanded, fighting to keep from smiling.

  “Me. Come on. Let’s ‘do it’ in the rain.”

  She started to laugh, and the laughter bubbled in her throat like champagne, with the same happy result. Dizzy, weak-kneed, she fell into his arms. “Okay, Gallagher, have it your way!”

  They tumbled onto the wet, packed sand and made wild, passionate, abandoned love. The rain dripped through the palm fronds, rinsing off the sand that stuck to their arms and legs and backs and thighs and hair.

  “Oooh, oh, Jack!” Abby gasped, writhing in ecstasy. “Oh, Jack …” And she was laughing and crying all at the same time. She wound her fingers into his hair, pressing her mouth to his, hoping to stifle the little love cries she couldn’t restrain. What if someone was near? What if someone could hear her? And she was shaking with desire, shaking with a wild abandonment she had never known before. And always in her ear was Jack’s soft “I love you … love you … love you” as he covered her face with kisses and filled her with love.

  When she could breathe again, Abby lay on top of him, her body spread out peacefully across the solid beauty of his body. Jack smiled happily into her eyes and kissed the tip of her nose. “So—what do you think of lovemaking in the rain?”

  “Rain was lovely,” she murmured. “It’s the sand!” She wrinkled her nose, laughing with the same luxurious happiness.

  “Don’t worry about the sand,” he said softly. “I’ll be your blanket, your bed, the place you come home to.”


  Afterward they went swimming naked in the sea. The rain had stopped and when the sun dipped toward the horizon they reluctantly climbed back into their suits and bailed out the little boat.

  “So, Gallagher”—Abby smiled, perched on the bow of the boat as Jack unfolded a damp but still usable map—“can you get us back to civilization?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  She laughed, walked over, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Pressing her slim body into the waiting curve of his, she kissed his chin. “What could be more romantic than a sunset sail? A perfect ending to a perfect day.”

  The sail back was calm and lovely. As they neared shore, the palms looked like silhouettes cut from thick black construction paper, pasted against a pale beach and an indigo sky. Lights were shining in the motel and glowing softly from lanterns strung across the wide wooden patio.

  “Oh”—Abby sighed—“I’m going to hate to say good-bye to this place, this day—”

  “Not yet, darlin’. We’re staying the night.” He caught her face between his hands and kissed the protests from her lips. “Abby, I need another day all alone with you. A long, loving night. A lazy morning. A hot, stormy afternoon. I can’t take you back yet. I just can’t!”

  “Oh, I’m glad!” Abby cried. “I feel the same way. But—but I have to go back. I have to get to the Websters’ farmers’ market in the morning.”

  “Let Jeanette do it for you,” Jack answered with maddening surety. “You do enough for her.”

  “But she has summer school, and—”

  “And nothing. Two classes. She can handle it.”

  Abby frowned, torn by the emotions warring in her heart. “I don’t know …” she whispered, biting her lips. “What if—”

  “I don’t care about ‘what ifs,’ ” Jack insisted, kissing her neck. “I only care about us.”

  “But—”

  Calmly, Jack straightened, giving the tiller a smooth, controlled turn. The motel swung around behind them, and ahead was the open sea.

  “Jack!” Abby gasped. “What are you doing?”

  “If you want to see land again, I think you’d better say yes.” His grin glinted in the growing darkness.

  “That’s blackmail, Jack Gallagher! You wouldn’t want my affection on those terms.”

  “On any terms, darlin’! So—what do you say?”

  “I say you’re impossible. Stubborn, outrageous—” She looked at the steely determination of his stance, the wonderful width of his shoulders, the sweet, irresistible joy of his smile. “Wellll … I guess we deserve another day. As long as you promise it will be as wonderful as today.”

  “I promise, Abby,” he said softly, and brought the boat to shore.

  When they were back in the motel room, Jack walked to the big bed, with its cool white sheets. He pulled the blanket back and winked at her. “Come here.…”

  Eight

  “Oh, look what you’ve done to me, Jack! For the first time in my life I don’t want to go back to work. I don’t want to see the Paradise Café. Paradise is here!” Wearing nothing but a smile, Abby snuggled in Jack’s arms.

  Jack ran his hands lovingly down her silken back and cupped her round little bottom, then pulled her even closer. “You’re not going to get an argument from me, darlin’. I’m a happy man.”

  Abby nuzzled playfully under his chin. She kissed the strong, steady pulse at his throat, brushed her lips over his collarbone, and pressed kisses into the thick, dark hair on his chest. “Ummm. Now I know what they mean by contentment. Oh, Jack, I thought it was something everyone in the world but me would know. I thought I’d spend my whole life wanting more, working harder, struggling after some dream. But this—this is lovely.” She lifted herself up on one elbow, smiled into his dark eyes, and drew a finger down the sharp angle of his jaw. “You know, you’re beautiful.”

  He shook his head, looking at her with tolerant amusement. “Me? Nope, too big and burly. But you, you’re all the colors of summer: Golden skin, cornflower-blue eyes, the blush of a peach on your cheeks.” His hands began to touch each place his words described. “And your nipples are dusty rose, this sweet tangle of fur is the color of ripe wheat, the inside of your thighs is pale as cream.…”

  “Oh, don’t—don’t stop!” she whispered, made bold and reckless by desire.

  “Don’t intend to, darlin’.” Smiling, he rolled on top of her. He covered her with his hard, loving body and loved her long and hard.

  When ecstasy had subsided to a mere whimper of satiated pleasure, Abby peeked out from beneath her lashes.

  Jack was lying next to her, one arm cocked under his head, watching her. His eyes darkened to smoke, and he reached out and stroked her bare flank. “I never thought I’d be the one to say this, but we’d better be heading back.”

  “I don’t want to.” Abby sighed and snuggled down against the pillow.

  Jack laughed softly and kissed the tip of her nose. “I don’t want to either, but I’ve got to check in with Pop and Bear, and someone I know has to be at work tomorrow.”

  He got out of bed, then reached down to offer her a hand.

  Abby shook her head. “Nope, I’m not going.” She pulled the covers up to her chin and lay there, her shining eyes daring him to make her move.

  “You are a little nut! Get on out of there, Abby. Come morning you’ll be chewing me out for not getting you home in time—”

  “I won’t. I promise! You don’t think about Colorado, and I won’t think about the café. We’ll do nothing but sip piña coladas, lie in the sun, and make love.”

  Jack stared down at her, torn between amusement and desire. “If I thought you meant one word of it, I’d be back in that bed before you could say Buck Rogers.”

  “How about ‘buck naked’?” Abby drawled. She patted the bed next to her. “Come here!”

  Settling his hands on his lean hips, Jack laughed. “You’ll be sorry, woman.”

  “Not me! You’re looking at a new Abby Clarke.”

  Something flickered in Jack’s eyes. He rocked back on his heels and said softly, “But I’m happy with the old Abby Clarke.”

  Abby popped upright, wrapping her arms around her knees and looking up at him with sudden seriousness. “Are you? Really? I think she tends to be sort of a stick-in-the-mud—always worrying about something, always too busy to have fun.…” She let the words drift away, but her wide blue eyes were full of questions.

  Jack brushed the hair back from her cheek with a gentle hand. “Now, I’m not saying she couldn’t use a little loosening up”—he winked—“but I do love that girl.”

  “You do?” She flashed a bright, heart-stopping smile. “Well, then, I’d better keep her around. And she does have to be at work in the morning. By seven! So when we get to my place, you’d better go on home so I can get a decent night’s sleep and—”

  Laughing, Jack pulled her up into his arms. “I’m a good-hearted guy, not an angel.” And to prove it he kissed her back into a sweet delirium before he drove her home.

  He stayed the night but let her sleep, wrapped in his arms, her old quilt pulled lightly over them both. And he stayed in bed when she awoke at six, lay there watching her dress and brush her hair, watching her move around the narrow trailer. He loved every gesture, every sure, quiet movement. Before she left she came and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Stay asleep. I’ll see you later.” She hurried to the door, then hurried back. “I love you,” she whispered.

  “I love you too.” He pulled her down for a quick kiss, holding her close for a moment, then let her go.

  When he caught up with her at the Paradise Café about four that afternoon, she was up to her ears in business. There were boxes of produce covering the counter tops, a man delivering fresh snapper and grouper dropping ice shavings across her kitchen floor, a plumber fooling with something under the sink. And the rain was pounding on the windows.

  Jack pushed the door all the way open and squeezed into the kitchen. A
t the sight of him, dripping wet, his shirt plastered to his gorgeous chest, Abby forgot about the plumber and fish seller and flew to Jack’s arms and hugged him tight. “Oh, am I glad to see you! It’s craziness here, and for a minute I was afraid I had only dreamed you.”

  He held her at arm’s length and gave her a slow, steady smile. “No dream. Not one bit of it; not the sailboat, not the rain, not the sand and the—”

  “Shh!” She smoothed the front of her skirt. “So—what have you been up to all day?”

  “Met a fellow from the Florida game commission, and I tagged along. There was a twelve-foot alligator taking a stroll across a parking lot in Tavares on his way to Lake Dora, and we sort of helped him on his way.”

  “Oh, Jack, that’s so dangerous! I wish you wouldn’t fool around with things like that. Why can’t you go to Disney World, like any other tourist?”

  “If I were any other tourist, you wouldn’t love me the way you do.”

  Laughter popped out of her. “ ‘Oh—and how do I love you?”

  “Madly.” He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him.

  Abby wiggled away, casting a mortified glance around the kitchen. “Jack!”

  Jack just shook his head. “Always worrying. I’ll see you later, darlin’.”

  “Wait. Are you limping? Yes, you’re limping, Jack Gallagher, you are! Now, don’t you leave before you tell me what the hell happened.”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “Ahhh,” came a snide drawl from the dining-room door. “What modesty. What courage.” Simon was leaning there, an empty plastic glass dangling from one hand. “Bet she’ll kiss it for you an’ make it better.”

  “You can k—” Jack leaped forward, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Through the deadly humming in his ears he heard the others’ gasps of dismay, Abby’s muffled cry. So he stepped back and dropped a hand on Simon’s shoulder.

  Simon squirmed, but Jack’s grip was iron, unshakable. “Hey, let go! You ruin this suit and you’ll be sorry. I’ve got friends you wouldn’t like!” he threatened.

  Jack laughed in his face. “That’s not hard to believe. I don’t even like you.” His smile faded. “So watch your manners, okay?”