His San Diego Sweetheart

by Yahrah St. John

  She moaned softly when his fingers slid inside. He thrust deeply into her again and again. He bent his head to suck on the soft spot on her neck that he knew was her weakness. Miranda shifted and he could feel her tremors take over her body, but she was holding back. He could feel it.

  “Give in to me,” he urged, stroking her harder. His fingers continued their quest, slipping in and out of her wet haven. She leaned her head backward against his shoulder and her hands clutched the countertop.

  Seconds later, her cry echoed around them and he gentled her through her climax. Depleted, she sank against him and Vaughn lifted her into his arms and carried her to bed. She was silent as he undressed her and then himself before climbing into bed. He made love to her slowly, reverently until eventually she drifted off to sleep.

  But he couldn’t sleep. Because deep down Vaughn knew that a line had been crossed tonight and another line had been formed between them and he wasn’t sure they’d be able to navigate their way back to each other.

  Chapter 14

  “Are you excited?” Vaughn asked Miranda as they drove to Prescott George’s offices for the Baja wine tour on Saturday morning. The tour company was picking them up via private coach and would take the entire organization on a tour of three wineries with lunch included.

  “Yes, it sounds like fun,” Miranda responded. She was doing her best to reengage with her husband. Since their love conversation several nights ago, there had been tension between them. Though it hadn’t manifested itself in the bedroom. There they were completely in sync and Vaughn easily both excited and surprised Miranda with his creative lovemaking. It was afterward that they’d been struggling to get back to where they’d been before.

  She knew she was putting too much pressure on their new, fragile marriage, but Miranda couldn’t help but be disappointed by Vaughn’s feelings on the subject of love. She certainly hadn’t broached the subject again for fear any intimacy between them would be completely gone. But deep down, Miranda knew that she’d pulled back from their relationship. She had to, otherwise she’d fall deeper and deeper in love with her husband.

  They arrived to the brewery fifteen minutes later to a large gathering of Prescott George members, wives and significant others. Vaughn introduced Miranda to members who hadn’t attended their wedding or the pool party. Miranda was thrilled when she saw Jordan, a familiar face in the crowd, with yet a different woman on his arm for the day. But it was Vaughn’s parents she was most nervous to meet.

  She knew his father instantly because he was taller than the rest of the men. He was shorter than Vaughn by a couple of inches, but had his same warm brown coloring and broad shoulders, yet not his physique because he had a few extra pounds around the middle. The Commander was dressed casually in khaki pants and a polo shirt. He was walking toward them with Vaughn’s mother, a petite woman who was taller than Miranda by several inches. Her hair was in a sophisticated bob and reached her chin and she wore a matching rose-colored short set.

  Miranda felt Vaughn tense as his parents came near. “Commander.” Vaughn shook his father’s hand and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. “Mom.”

  Did he not call him Dad?

  Vaughn turned to Miranda at his side. “I’d like you both to meet my wife, Miranda.”

  Miranda came forward to greet them. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you both.” She leaned forward to give his mother a hug, which was responded to with a quick pat on her back while Vaughn’s father offered her his hand.

  “Nice to finally meet you, young lady,” his father replied, shaking her hand. “I’ve been curious to meet the woman who could convince Vaughn to marry her after knowing him such a short time. You must be quite a woman indeed.” He eyed her up and down. Not in a lecherous fashion, but Miranda certainly didn’t get the warm fuzzies.

  She smiled halfheartedly.

  “Well, we should all get to the coach.” His mother motioned them toward their mode of transportation for the day. “It looks like they’re starting to load.”

  Vaughn grasped her hand and led Miranda to the coach bus. She was thankful for the contact because she couldn’t tell what sort of first impression she’d made on his parents. They were certainly a cold pair. No wonder Vaughn didn’t know how to express love and affection because he’d never received it.

  Once they were on the bus, the jovial members and spouses laughed, talked, even sang songs on the less than two-hour ride to the Valle de Guadalupe. The view was spectacular. Miranda loved the rugged mountainside terrain along scenic Highway 1. But she especially liked that there was a mix of age groups from members in their fifties and sixties to Generation Xers and millennials. Miranda liked the diversity and commented on it to Vaughn.

  “It’s not always easy dealing with such a broad spectrum of viewpoints,” he said in her ear over the hum of the engine and conversations.

  “I’m sure it’s not, but it’s good to see you come together in a united front.”

  “I’m glad you’re here with me.” He leaned over and brushed his lips across hers in the sweetest of kisses. Miranda’s heart fluttered in her chest. It wasn’t a kiss meant to entice; it was a kiss meant to soothe. And it did; she looked up at him and smiled.

  The day turned out to be wonderful. The first two wineries they visited were spectacular, with rolling hills and acres and acres of grapes that were grown and harvested. They started with a brief audio-visual presentation, then had a guided walking tour of the facility so they could see the wine-making process and how the wine was bottled and labeled. Then the tour guide showed them the catwalk so they could view the production areas, followed by a wine tasting of the region’s premium wines.

  Vaughn stayed by Miranda’s side and they tasted the different selections together, commenting on which ones they liked or didn’t like. They even explored the wine caves together, sneaking in kisses when no one was looking. It was the most relaxed they’d been over the last few days.

  Eventually they stopped for lunch at an authentic Mexican restaurant. Miranda suspected they were going to have to sit with Vaughn’s parents so they could get to know her, and she was right. The waitress sat them at a four-seater table and brought over a pitcher of sangria and poured them each a glass.

  Miranda was thankful for some libation to get through the lunch. Throughout the day, she’d tried to make polite conversation with them, but had received a chilly reception. Maybe lunch would be different.

  “So Vaughn tells us your family is well-respected in the Chicago community,” Commander Ellicott began.

  Oh Lord, it was going to be the Spanish inquisition, Miranda thought.

  “Yes, the Jensens have been part of the Chicago framework for decades. My great-grandfather Thomas Jensen started the company many years ago, but it’s run by my father now.”

  “Very impressive,” Mrs. Ellicott responded. “And what is it you do, dear?”

  “I have my MBA from Brown University and I work as a hotel administrator in Chicago.”

  His father frowned and his tone was curt when he asked, “Why not work at your family business?”

  “Commander...” Vaughn spoke, but Miranda patted his hand.

  “I don’t mind answering,” she said. “I wanted something of my own that I could take pride in building. I have my own hopes and dreams, Commander Ellicott.”

  “That’s all fine and good, but being loyal and committed to one’s family is the hallmark of upstanding character.”

  Miranda sucked in a deep breath. Was he calling her character into question because she’d chosen not to work at her family’s company? Miranda rose to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to powder my nose.” She hoped the Commander would appreciate the good manners her mama had instilled in her, because she’d much rather pour the pitcher of sangria over his father’s head at his rudeness.

  Vaughn and his fath
er both rose as she exited the table.

  Fury boiled in her veins at his audacity. His father knew nothing about her, but yet he was willing to pass judgment on her? Or maybe he was just determined not to like her since Vaughn had gone against his wishes and married her anyway? How was she supposed to get through lunch with that kind of acrimony?

  Miranda spent an extraordinary amount of time in the bathroom, taking a deep breath, texting Sasha about Vaughn’s parents and wishing lunch would miraculously be over in the blink of eye.

  It wasn’t.

  Painfully, she got through the meal and the Commander’s continued questions about her family, background, schooling and religion. All of his questions were so impertinent, but Miranda answered them anyway. Her hope was somehow his parents might grow to like her if they found her to be open and forthright. And she would do this—for Vaughn, because she loved him.

  * * *

  Vaughn was grateful when lunch ended. Poor Miranda had been subjected to a battery of questions by his father who was relentless in his quest to find out about his wife. In his mind, no woman could ever measure up or be good enough for Vaughn except maybe the one he picked.

  Fat chance.

  Vaughn lived by his own rules and his days of listening to the Commander were over.

  His parents were now chatting with several of their friends, leaving him and Miranda in peace to enjoy the third and final winery.

  “Thank you, by the way,” Vaughn said when it was just the two of them again.

  “For what?”

  “For putting up with my father,” he responded. “I know he can be a bit much.”

  Miranda chuckled. “That’s putting it mildly.”

  She turned away from him, but he grabbed her by the arm. “No, seriously, Miranda. You were a good sport today. Don’t think it went unnoticed.”

  She smiled at him in what appeared to be the first genuine smile he’d seen over the last hour during lunch.

  “So it looks like married life is going well for you, Ellicott,” one of the members of the club said when he approached.

  “Marriage is going swimmingly,” Vaughn answered smoothly, “My wife and I couldn’t be happier. We’re going to have a long, happy life together.” He bent down and kissed her.

  Once the man had gone, Miranda pulled out of his embrace and stalked away from him. What happened? He’d thought he’d smoothed the waters from the nightmare of a lunch. Was she still smarting over his parents’ cool reception toward her? Didn’t she know that he couldn’t care less what they thought? He wanted Miranda and she wasn’t going anywhere. If he had his choice she’d stay with him forever.

  Forever.

  He’d never thought about long-term with his previous relationships. Before Miranda it was all about recreational sex and the diversion it brought him when he wasn’t surfing or building Elite. There’d been no commitments. No promises. No emotions. He only met up with women when it was convenient. And when he was satisfied, he moved on. He could go weeks without needing to see or speak to a woman, but in a short time Miranda had him looking toward the future. A future that included her. Maybe even a few children.

  Children.

  Whoa! They wouldn’t come for a long time. He wanted time with his wife alone before the rug rats came so he could have plenty of time—weeks, months, years—to satisfy this constant hunger he had for her.

  Maybe he was getting ahead of himself.

  Staying married to Miranda was life-altering. If they stayed married he could lose focus, lose his edge because recently he’d forgotten everything except the pursuit of pleasure that he found when he was with her, inside her.

  Vaughn glanced at Miranda as she talked to Jordan and his newest girl. Even now, he wanted to take her up against one of those barrels, have her wrap her legs around him and drive inside her. He wanted to hear her cries through the wine cave.

  He needed to get a grip. It was just sex. Good sex. Mind-blowing sex. So why did he feel like it was more? Could it be more if he was only willing to allow it?

  Vaughn walked over to Miranda and Jordan and slid his arm around her waist. This time when she tried to move away, he didn’t let her, keeping her solidly next to him. She glanced up at him with those big brown eyes and he almost forgot there were other people in the room.

  “So what did you think of that Cab?” Jordan asked with a smirk as if he knew something Vaughn didn’t.

  “Pardon?” Vaughn hadn’t heard a word, he’d been so engrossed in trying to read Miranda’s expression, figure out why she’d suddenly gone cold on him again.

  “The Cabernet Sauvignon?” Jordan said, indicating the glass in Vaughn’s hand.

  Vaughn nodded in understanding. “Oh yes, it’s good. Smooth.”

  Jordan smiled and glanced at Miranda. “We’ll speak soon and if you really are interested in displaying some of my artwork in your B and B, let me know.” Seconds later, he was gone.

  “You’re working with Jordan?” A stab of jealousy coursed through Vaughn. And he didn’t like it. He didn’t want any man sniffing around what was his. And that’s what Miranda was. His. His woman. His wife.

  Miranda smiled as she extricated herself from his embrace. “Possibly. I’m very interested in Jordan’s work.”

  Vaughn’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on, Miranda? Is my touch not what you would like today? Or would you care for someone else’s?” His eyes trained on Jordan.

  “That’s ridiculous, Vaughn,” she hissed when she saw the direction his eyes moved to. “And you darn well I know it. I haven’t given you any reason to think I’m unfaithful.”

  “Except shrink away from my touch. And give me the cold shoulder for days.”

  Her eyes clouded, but then a sudden anger flared in them and her voice rose a fraction. “That’s not true. And I would remind you that now is not the time to talk about this.”

  He glanced around and could see his father quietly regarding him from across the room. “Fine, but we’ll talk about this later.”

  “Fine.”

  When they got back home tonight, Vaughn intended on getting to the root cause of Miranda’s anger and mood shift over the last week.

  * * *

  Miranda silently seethed on the drive back from the Valle de Guadalupe. She refused to give Vaughn’s parents the satisfaction of seeing discord between them so she played the part of dutiful wife and put a smile back on her face on the coach bus. But on the ride back to their home, tension filled the sports car. How could he for a second think she’d look at another man?

  Couldn’t he tell, couldn’t he see how much she loved him?

  She could never give herself to another man so completely without love; she supposed it was easy for men to have sex without strings, but not her. She was a different kind of woman. She needed love, respect and trust. She appreciated that they had a wonderful companionship. She just wanted more.

  When the vehicle came to a stop, Miranda bolted and walked quickly to the front door. She was fumbling for her keys when he came around and said, “I got it.” Seconds later, he was holding open the door for her to go through.

  She didn’t glance up at him and walked inside. She was about to walk up the stairs when he stopped her. “Miranda, I’d like to talk to you.”

  She paused on the staircase. Her hand trembled as it clutched the railing, but she slowly turned around to face him. “Do we have to, tonight? It’s been a long day.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  Miranda sighed and began descending the stairs. She followed him as he made his way to the living room and sat down on one of the sofas. Miranda blushed thinking about just how many times they’d put the sofa to good use.

  “You want to tell me what’s going on?” Vaughn inquired.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Let’s not play game
s, Miranda. You’ve been distant with me for days now and again during the wine tour, I could feel it.”

  “How can you say that?” she asked. “We’ve been together.”

  Vaughn’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I’ve had your body, Miranda. And we’re good together in bed as I always knew we would be, but something is different. Something has changed. I can feel it and I know you have to, as well.”

  Miranda closed her eyes. He was right. And hiding from him wasn’t doing them both any good. But she also didn’t want to lose what they had either. She was in a precarious position. Yet she knew what she had to do, what she must do, no matter the cost. There was no way they could go on for the next eleven months this way, not after all they’d shared.

  When she opened her eyes, tears were brimming at the surface. Vaughn instantly reached for hands. “Tell me, whatever it is, Miranda. For God’s sake, just tell me what I’ve done wrong so I can make it better.”

  She shook her head. “You—you can’t,” she sniffed. Because you couldn’t make someone love you back. She knew that. She’d tried miserably.

  “Baby, please, talk to me.”

  “I don’t want our marriage to be pretend,” she started. “I want a real marriage.”

  “I want that too,” Vaughn said. “And I thought that’s what we’ve been doing.”

  “On the surface, yes, we have,” Miranda said. “But I want more.”

  Vaughn frowned. “How much more? I’ve been sharing my life with you, my business, my passion, my organization. What more do you want from me?”

  “I want your love,” Miranda said softly.

  Vaughn didn’t immediately say anything; he just stared and looked at her like a deer caught in the headlights. For a moment, her heart dared to hope that he might feel the same way, might say that he loved her, needed her. Instead of just wanting her. She knew they shared a hot and explosive connection. She knew his body probably better than she knew her own. She knew what he wanted—be it her mouth, her tongue or her hands.