by J. K. Coi
The seminar had gone even better than she’d hoped. Ben, of course, had been right, and the two of them proved to be a great team. Today had even made her wonder what might have happened if she’d been brave enough to go to New York with him.
For the first time since sending him away, she regretted the decision. She’d never even given them a chance! What if they could have compromised on the personal and professional fronts and found the kind of work/life balance her parents never had? They might have found something special, become an unstoppable force of nature, but now she would never know.
The sun was setting behind a covering of heavy clouds that gave weight to the early evening shadows, but as Liz opened the French doors to her balcony and walked out, the grounds of the resort buzzed with life and possibility. She turned her face into the breeze. It smelled of salt and sand and the coming rainstorm. She leaned over the white wrought iron railing, breathing it in and feeling strangely free, and yet a little maudlin at the same time.
When she went back inside, she took extra time getting ready for dinner. Looking into the bathroom mirror, she felt like the opposite of the business professional who’d spoken about algorithms, latent variable modelling, and ethics coding all day. The woman looking back at her was someone who went snorkeling with sharks, stood up in front of a room full of industry leaders to teach them something, and dared to have a fiery affair with the most devastatingly handsome man she’d ever known.
All of these accomplishments would have been virtually unthinkable to her a few days ago, but if this time with Ben had taught her anything, it was that her fears had cheated her out of too many experiences already, and she didn’t want to lose any more.
That comment about “getting her out of his system,” thrown out in anger, meant she was taking a bigger risk of being hurt than she would have liked. But sometimes taking risks was necessary, both personally and professionally. If you didn’t risk anything, you would never have anything worth losing.
She patted her carefully tamed hair and lined her eyelids with thick dark pencil. She even curled her lashes. She leaned back from the mirror and gasped. Her green eyes looked impossibly wide. Her glossy red lips matched her short, red dress. She’d thrown the outfit in her suitcase not because it was sexy, but because it was light-weight and she didn’t have a lot of clothes that would qualify as island-worthy. But maybe she’d gone too far. This didn’t even feel like her.
Hell, that was probably a good thing. When she was with Ben, she felt as if there was a better person on the verge of coming out. Someone braver, more daring. Someone smarter and stronger. He made her want to take the risks she’d always shied away from, and made her think that trusting someone with more than just her body or her friendship, but also her past and her future, might not be such a far off possibility as it had once seemed.
She took a deep breath and turned away from the mirror.
He was waiting in the lobby when she got downstairs. She watched him for a few seconds before he noticed her. He looked fantastic as always, one hand under his jacket in his pants pocket. But that wasn’t what got her heart racing. It was the approachable smile that stretched across his face as a stranger walked by and said hello, and the way he held himself with cool confidence even though she knew that he doubted some of the decisions he’d made.
Everything about him screamed success. There was no doubt that he was well on his way to achieving everything he’d ever wanted. She only wanted him to remember what he’d told her earlier, that the adventure and challenge of it was all part of the journey. In fact, she wanted to be the one who made sure the spark in his eyes wouldn’t ever go out again.
Her heart thudded. It didn’t matter what she wanted, did it? Ben may have talked about second chances while he was in her bed during the heat of the moment, but that was then.
Snooping in his email had changed everything.
That investment money from Vargas—whoever it went to—would change everything.
After tomorrow their time was effectively up. She would be going back to Seattle, and he would return to New York.
Maybe it was enough that they’d had these few days…that they would have tonight.
He spotted her.
Immediately, he took several strides across the lobby until he was right in front of her. His expression had changed that quickly from light and friendly to hot, intense, and focused.
“You look ready to set the world on fire,” he murmured into her ear. He set her on fire, especially as his sizzling gaze traveled the length of her body. “Shall we go to dinner, or just skip the civilized part of the evening altogether?”
She was so tempted, but then he laughed. “You know what? We’d better eat. We’re going to need the calories later.”
She took his arm, curving her fingers over the hard muscles hidden beneath his jacket. They made their way outside and she looked up into the sky, but was disappointed when there were no stars. They followed the path and the strains of vibrant folk music down to the beach. The way was lit with torches, and when they got to the open tent that had been set up near the water’s edge Liz stopped and looked around, amazed. “This is gorgeous.”
More torches circled the perimeter of the tent. As she and Ben stepped inside, lanterns from the canvas ceiling cast beautiful shadows on the colorfully dressed tables that had been set up on a wooden platform over the sand and topped with candles. A stage had also been set up at the front end of the tent, and a group of men dressed just as colorfully as the women in the tent were playing the steel drums, guitar, and some kind of maracas.
A woman dressed in a beautiful white peasant blouse with red silk ribbon along the neckline that matched the bright red and orange in her patterned skirt and headscarf greeted them and showed them to a table near the back, facing the water.
As wine and dinner were served, Ben regaled her with stories about New York. But not the typical stories Liz would have expected to hear about the famous city, like crowded transit, rude pedestrians, and how expensive everything was.
Instead, he told her about the garden his neighbor had made on the roof of their apartment building, and how the guy had asked everyone on their floor what their favorite vegetable was and promised to plant it next year.
“You would have loved it,” he said. “I went up there a couple of times, and Tom had even tried to put up a greenhouse like the one we saw here on the beach. It was just a hodgepodge of old doors and windows bolted together, probably dangerous as hell, but it was great to see all that greenery in a place you don’t expect it. I remember wanting to call you and tell you about it.”
Obviously, he hadn’t done that, and she didn’t have to ask why.
Ben described Central Park and talked about the group who’d invited him to join their touch football game and picnic every first Saturday of the month throughout the summer.
“You love football. That must have been fun.”
He gave her a funny look. “I didn’t actually join in very often.”
“Why not?”
“The teams were made up of both guys and girls, mostly couples who ended up making out on blankets under the trees after the picnic lunch.”
“Ah.” She chuckled. “A little awkward, I guess.”
“Exactly. But eventually I found a good place to go to relieve my frustrations.” He grinned across the table and took a sip of wine. Not surprisingly, his plate was already clean, while she’d barely touched hers. “There’s a decent gym down the street from my apartment.”
With a laugh, she remembered his old exercise routine. “Yes, but is the Thai food as good next door as it was at your last gym?” She used to tease him because he’d never been able to pass by the place without stopping in, which was why he had to go to the gym afterward.
“Nope.” His grin widened. “But there’s a great dim sum place around the corner.”
“So, what else did you get up to in New York?” she asked.
The smile on his
face hardened just enough for her to notice, and she almost regretted asking.
“I met my father again,” he said.
“You did?” She didn’t know what to say. Was that a good thing, or…?
“He died two months ago.”
“Oh Ben, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
He shook his head. “It’s okay, I guess. I got to see him more in the three months before he died than I had in my entire life.”
Other than that one time when he’d rambled about his father out of delirium, family had always been kind of off-limits between them, pretty much by mutual agreement. She’d met his mother, and Ben had known the basics about her history, but that was about it, because anything more would have felt like giving him the key to hurting her. After all, family was her biggest vulnerability.
“It must have been hard.” Her throat tightened with emotion.
“Not as hard as losing both your parents,” he answered with a sympathetic look.
As a teen, she would have agreed. She’d always thought she’d gotten the worst deal because both her parents had never been around even before they died. But how must it have felt to know your father was alive and well…and just didn’t want to know you?
“I know you told me once that you contacted him when you were younger, but I thought he didn’t…”
“Want anything to do with me?” He answered for her with raised eyebrows. “That was true. But one day I answered a knock at my door in New York, and there he was.”
“What did you say?” What would she have said to her father if he’d lived and come looking for a second chance to be a real dad?
“It was just after Jeffrey Olsen, and I still thought I was responsible. Everything I’d been working for was falling apart around me, and there he was. I got angry.” Beth wanted to reach out for his hand, but she didn’t dare. She didn’t want to take the risk that he would stop talking. “I yelled at him. How dare he show up at that moment, the worst moment of my life, when I’d spent years working my ass off so that when I finally faced him again, I would be the one in control? I would be the one with the ability to turn him away without another thought?”
“Did you?”
He looked at her. “No.”
She let out a sigh and smiled. She’d been holding her breath without even realizing it. “What did you say to him?”
“He did most of the talking that day, and when he came back, the next day, too. It turned out he was very sick, and he wanted to tell me how much he regretted the way he’d acted the last time we met. I think he regretted a lot of things about his life.”
“Did you forgive him?”
“I’m still not sure,” he murmured, staring down as his fingers played with the stem of his wineglass. “But when his nurse called me a few weeks later to say that it was time and he was asking for me…I went.”
Tears burned the backs of her eyes, and her heart ached for what he’d been through.
She finally reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “I’m glad that you got the chance to know your father better before it was too late, and I’m sure he really appreciated it too.”
All that time, she’d been so blind. Thinking only of how Ben kissing her and moving to New York had ruined everything for her.
“It took a lot of guts and heart to take a risk like that.” She grimaced and swallowed a sip of wine. “Sorry, does that sound condescending?”
He laughed and cleared his throat, looking over the flower arrangement on the table between them and into her eyes. “Probably not as condescending as me telling you how proud I was of you this afternoon. You had that room full of engineers and marketing geeks clinging to your every word.”
As far as subject changes went, she couldn’t fault him for giving it a shot, and from that point forward they stuck to safer topics. She dared him to guess which of their old schoolmates was now in jail, and he made her howl with laughter with his reasons why each of them might have ended up in trouble with the law.
Once the plates had been cleared from most of the tables and more drinks had been delivered, the show was ready to begin. From their spot near the edge of the tent, it was a little harder to see the stage, and Ben’s back was toward it, so he shifted around the table to sit right beside her.
Part of her wanted him to put his arm around her shoulder and press in closer so she would be able to feel his hard body against hers, but that wouldn’t be very professional here, when the dining tent was more than half filled with other convention attendees—and probably her own brother, although she hadn’t seen him yet.
Not to mention, she didn’t need for him to touch her physically when his body practically hummed beside her, throwing off sexual tension like a live wire, and she knew they were both thinking about it.
And then he took her hand, pulling it beneath the table onto his lap. She glanced up at him with wide eyes, but he shook his head. “The show is starting,” he whispered with a devilish grin.
Her breathing hitched as she faced forward again, but every molecule of her being was focused on Ben. On his fingers entwined with hers and the feel of his muscled leg under her palm.
The men and women who had been their servers were now filing onto the stage. Liz loved the multi-colored, flared skirts of the female dancers, but it was difficult to give them the attention they deserved because Ben was driving her crazy. As the booming drums started a heavy, vibrant beat, he moved his hand to her bare knee. In this seated position, her short skirt was already stretched halfway up to her thighs, and she sucked in a breath as she wondered just how daring he would get.
They were well hidden. The beach was at their backs and everyone else was looking toward the stage and nowhere near the two of them. Nevertheless, it felt supremely racy for him to touch her like this in such a public place.
She sucked in a breath as his fingers slipped between her knees, forcing them open just enough for him to shift his palm a little higher. She felt boneless and wound up at the same time.
When he found the silk covering her, he had to know exactly how wet he’d made her. “Please,” she whispered.
“Let’s get out of here.” He took her hand and pulled her from the table, and they ducked out the side of the open tent.
She kicked off her shoes, and he pulled her along into the night, stopping when they came across the same little greenhouse as before. Or maybe there was more than one. She had no idea and didn’t care because Ben was already kissing her. Kissing her like she was water, and he’d spent countless days in the desert.
They crashed into the little glass door of the greenhouse and pushed their way inside. He buried his fist into her hair. They knocked over a potted geranium on the floor. Liz dropped her shoes and pulled at the buttons of his jacket feverishly. She shoved it down his arms. It fell somewhere onto the ground. Considering the floor was littered with soil and plants and sand, she felt bad, until they careened into the potter’s bench and Ben shoved whatever happened to be laying there aside and lifted her onto it. Then she didn’t care about anything except getting his shirt off.
She fumbled with his belt buckle. He pushed her skirt to her waist and settled between her legs.
She took gasping breaths whenever he let her, filling her lungs with the heady perfume of all different kinds of flowers before everything was snuffed out again and she felt and smelled and tasted only him.
She clutched his head as he trailed hot, wet kisses down the low cut neckline of her dress. “I can’t believe we’re doing this. I’m not the kind of woman who does this. It’s crazy and reckless, and—”
“And you should do it more often. It looks good on you. I’ve wanted to do this all day and all night,” he groaned, slipping the thin straps off her shoulders and revealing her breasts to the torture of his lips and tongue. “The only crazy part is how long I was able to stand beside you in that seminar this afternoon, and then sit across from you at dinner, and go without touching you.”
She
tipped her head back and hissed as he rolled her nipple between his teeth. “Yes. Oh God, yes.”
She heard the telltale sound of a foil wrapper being torn open, and her breathing hitched with expectation and excitement. His hands went to her waist and tugged her closer to the edge of the bench. “My thong,” she reminded him.
“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten,” he murmured against her lips, urging her to open for him. His tongue swept inside her mouth as his hand slipped between her legs. She thought he would tug them off, but he only moved the scrap of silk aside, baring her just enough to get the job done. It felt deliciously naughty.
The bench was just a little too tall, and so he pulled her off it, right on top of him, filling her so deep so quickly that she cried out.
“Keep your legs tight around my waist and hold on,” he rasped in a strained voice. He bent her back over his arm, which itself was braced against the bench, keeping the hard edge from digging into her back.
The two of them were like a hurricane rolling in off the ocean, getting stronger and stronger as it closed in on the shore. Liz was swept away by the strength and power of it, shuddering with every spasm that rocked her from the inside out.
Ben held her tight against his body, and she swore she could hear his heart pounding so loud it echoed in the greenhouse. Then she realized it must have finally started raining. She was hearing the water droplets bouncing off the glass rooftop.
When he set her gently on her feet, she wobbled on jelly legs and grabbed onto his arms.
He looked down at her with a knowing, very male, very self-satisfied grin and pulled her against him once more, leaning over to plant a hard kiss on her still-tender lips. It was too much. She felt too much, and it terrified her.
“You were right, that was maybe a little crazy,” he murmured. “But I happen to think being crazy with you is pretty fucking awesome.”
He kissed her again, nuzzled her neck. His arms came around her, and he rubbed a circle into the center of her spine with one hand, while the other splayed open between her shoulder blades. “I don’t want to let you go yet.”