Ocean of Love

by Susan D. Taylor

  For his purposes of investigation, he needed to be within twelve inches of Marissa as she innocently gave her presentation. He wanted to observe the change in her breathing and matched his respiratory pattern to hers. Wyatt mirrored her in the way she oriented her body, and even by the movement of her hands as she rubbed her forehead or leaned on her palm. He casually noted her facial features, but he was really learning to read the varied and layered messages she delivered by noting what he did that resonated and relaxed her, and especially what made her smile, or better, laugh.

  He wiped his mouth after sampling the plate of fresh mozzarella and sliced tomatoes. “I don’t know why fresh basil reminds me of anise.”

  “Anehole.”

  “Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

  “No.” Her eyes widened as a shade of vermillion crept up her neck. “Do you like black licorice? Some cultivars or types of basil have an organic compound similar to anise and root of Glycyrrhiza glabra, or licorice.”

  “And you know this? Because?”

  “My mother kept a garden, herbs mostly, and I helped when I was very young. So, yes or no? Licorice?”

  “I did as a kid. Gorged myself on Good-n-Plenty.”

  A deeper color suffused her cheeks, different from before, from the moment she began explaining her interest in botany and a wide-eyed-doe expression overtook her features. He remembered her pain about the loss of her family and that this memory was one of a child and her mother. Carefully, he moved his hand to her fingers, gripping the edge of the table. He didn’t touch her. He put aside his want to take her in his arms, breathe in her scent, and kiss away the tender spot from her soul by listening to her talk.

  She finished with, “Well, then you have your answer.”

  He nodded, offering her a smile. For a moment, they sat in silence, sans the sounds of music from far off, the din of the waves, and the movement of the sea breeze coming into and out of the dining compartment. He sat mesmerized by the pulse at the base of her neck. He mentally tabulated the time it would take to finish this meal, move her car, and get her upstairs and naked. He wanted all of her. Not simply the physical part that was bone-shattering beautiful, but the part of her that she kept locked away.

  “Well, I’m stuffed. We still have dessert?” she asked as her gaze swam around his face.

  “Crème brûlée. Sweet. Decadent.” He chipped the caramelized crust of browned sugar and dipped his spoon into the vanilla custard.

  She opened her lips to him. To transfer the spoonful of brûlée into her delicate mouth required every ounce of concentration on his part.

  He ran his thumb over the edge of her bottom lip, where a drip of the brown sugar syrup lingered, unable to find a way to shave off minutes until he’d savor her mouth. “Would you care for a cup of coffee or tea? Nothing to unnerve you.”

  “Coffee. The nectar of the gods and brokers. Thank you. Do you partake at night?” she asked.

  “Yes. And a cigar if it doesn’t offend you. So there is something you enjoy that does not come from the ocean. Coffee. Anything else?”

  “I might join you in your cigar.” Her brow arched seductively. The first sign she overtly presented a nuance that was anything but all broker. Immense satisfaction stirred within him by her relaxation and teasing.

  He motioned to her glass. “I’d say you deserve a whole box of Cohibas.”

  He’d poured his concentration into following her report for the last hour and scraped by asking a few intelligent questions. She could now accept his bid. He’d gone through the brokering steps until she was convinced she owned this sale. No question in his mind, she’d done her job. That was the least he could do for her so long as they were going down the same path, toward his bed. There was no argument. He was all alpha male when it came to her. Enough was enough. It was time.

  “No more wine. I won’t be able to see straight,” she said.

  “Right. We couldn’t have that now, could we?” No, he didn’t want her inebriated. Not with what he intended to do with her. He tapped the folder that housed the property reports. He’d done himself proud. “Don’t I need to sign a committal and a good-faith note?”

  “Yes. There are a set of hard copies at the end of the reports. I’ve got the digital on a tablet in my car.”

  Chapter Nine

  Wyatt’s deal had been more than a real estate decathlon. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts. Heading down the corridor toward the restroom, she bumped into a small woman.

  “I’m so sorry. Please excuse me,” Marissa said.

  “Don’t go out there tonight.” The white haired woman said. “No good. Not tonight. No ocean … no swim.”

  “Excuse me?” Marissa shivered.

  Fingers caressed her elbow. “Is there a problem?” Wyatt’s voice and body radiated warmth into Marissa, easing the chill that had overtaken her.

  The lady remained firmly planted before them, her strange, amber eyes unrelentingly piercing into Marissa.

  “Nothing,” The woman ducked her head a couple of times. “I was mistaken.” She wiped the air in front of her face and peered at Marissa, staring with luminous eyes.

  Without thinking, Marissa leaned back against Wyatt. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered to him.

  There was no mistake in the woman’s attempt to warn her. The woman’s fingers tightly gripped Marissa’s wrist. The strange chill turned into a jolt, stabbing the pit of her stomach, turning her middle sour with a fit of cramps. The stirring made her want to clasp her hands over her ears, the way a high-pitched screech affected her.

  “Are you ready?” Wyatt asked, pressing the small of her back.

  She nodded, gazing up into his face. “Yes, very much.”

  “Good evening ma’am.” His tone was cutting. He came around to her side, gently pulling on her arm. She stepped back to get the woman to stop touching her. A line of scorching heat scattered up Marissa’s spine. Icy-hot. Prickly beads of sweat covered the space between her shoulder blades and over her chest.

  Wyatt stepped between the woman and her. He pressed his mouth into a tight line, taking her hands between his palms, rubbing his hands over hers. “Your skin is freezing. Maybe some warm water.”

  “Sounds inviting. I’d like to go wash my hands.”

  “Let’s go find the restroom.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. She leaned against him, letting him guide her to the ladies restroom.

  The woman mumbled something unintelligible, and bent down, retrieving a bin of silverware. The woman shuffled down the hall toward the kitchen without turning back. Apparently she one of the kitchen staff. And in error. Wasn’t she?

  “Are you alright? You look pale,” he said.

  “I’m more than fine. I’ll be right out.” Marissa slipped into the empty restroom, and then leaned up against the door.

  That was a first. And she hoped, the last time she’d experience such a creepy sensation—a cross between food poisoning and a hang-over. She repeated several rounds of deep breaths to clear the strange stirrings from her already overstimulated body. This evening had yielded the results she had always craved in the world of business within Apex Realty. In a moment, Wyatt would submit his bid and she’d be free to unwind and kick back.

  There was a knock on the door and she jumped forward, expecting someone to enter.

  “Marissa, you alright?” His deep voice was low on the other side of the door.

  “Absolutely. I’ll be out in a minute.” She forced a bright banter to buoy her words. She tightened her fingers on the faucet lever, releasing a trickle of cold water.

  She reached for a towel, holding the terrycloth material under the stream, and wetting her fingertips. She ran the cloth across her forehead. Her eyes shone brightly in the mirror, bloodshot from a lack of sleep.

  This deal would be closed tonight if the seller responded. If not, then tomorrow. It was a good hunch that Wyatt’s offer would be accepted. He had agreed to avoid low-ba
lling the seller, given the price had already been reduced. She’d be surprised if a counteroffer were issued. The homework that Apex had completed paved the way. Wyatt had turned out to be more than an easy client, once he had all the facts. He didn’t require financing, a sure-fire stumbling block in many property deals of this magnitude, and all the more reason the seller would accept his offer.

  She should feel relief. Instead she shivered, unsettled and unglued after that woman’s pronouncement. She dried her trembling hands. It was as though her blood had congealed from a dark premonition. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake off the feeling.

  Outside in the hall, she announced when he came into view carrying an armful of red roses from their dinner, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  “Show me the digital dotted line. All the documents in the folder are executed, signed, titled, and dated.” He handed over the folder. She inhaled the infusion of rose scented air.

  “Those are the loveliest shade of red,” she murmured.

  “And all yours.” He smiled.

  On the way to her car, they spoke about the minor details of his land purchase, yet with each step, the tension she felt tightened.

  “The title company has secured a time tomorrow afternoon. I’ll send the date of the 15th along with the closing package to your attorney,” she said, forcing lightness into her voice.

  “Can you make certain on getting the permits? We’ll break ground next month.”

  “I haven’t forgotten. Two weeks? I’ll push them through.” She was aware that his arm brushed against hers.

  She clicked her automatic key fob. Her trunk lights blinked, glaring red across the parking lot. She removed the tablet and powered up the computer. The screen illuminated in her hands.

  “Here, I’ll trade you.” She set the tablet on her trunk and handed Wyatt a stylus.

  She took hold of the flowers, admiring each brilliant blossom. She peered over at Wyatt as he stood with one foot on her bumper, leaning over her car hood, flipping through the pages of the contract, initialing each client box, and finally, at the end, effortlessly signed his name, committing to a million-dollar investment.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said, holding out the tablet.

  “Likewise,” she whispered.

  Their eyes locked, tearing at her ability to resist him. She yearned for him to come closer. Suddenly, she remembered Sinclair. Her boss would be waiting for confirmation and a copy of the property contract.

  “We need to forward the contract to Apex.” She set the roses and the tablet back on the trunk of the car. Her fingers shook as she typed. “With a few quick moves your offer is now in route.”

  “I’m more than satisfied with your abilities,” he spoke in voice that got under her skin.

  She powered off the computer, realizing this was it. She’d done what Wyatt had asked of her. He moved nearer, the presence of his body sent a blanket of heat slithering across her skin. His breath flowed over her neck and face as he bent his head toward her mouth.

  A valet sprinted into the garage. The clatter of his feet made them both step apart.

  “Can you hold the flowers for a second?” She lifted the trunk and set the tablet back into her attaché case.

  “You really came through for me.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I think we make a good team.” Admiration and something glittery shone in his eyes, beckoning her to take a chance.

  She looked away, not wanting to get swept back into the fiery desire that skittered within her body. “Sinclair said you were staying next door. Did you drive or walk?”

  “Walked. How about a night cap to celebrate?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. It’s getting late.”

  Every cell in her body screamed and burned to go with him. Glancing at her car, this parking space was beyond what she required. The spot was selected to provide her with the ability to move between the building and the sidewalk for her moonlit swim. Her beach bag was already stashed outside the wooden privacy fence that ran along the restaurant on the opposite side, far away from Wyatt’s villa. A nearly perfect spot, except it was still early. Too soon to dive naked into the ocean.

  “Just one drink. What are your plans tonight anyway? Marissa, join me for one drink.” His seductive voice was too tempting to resist any longer.

  “How about if we walk to your place?” she asked.

  She’d done her duty to Apex and hadn’t folded before the contract was signed. For all practical purposes, their business was only one day from being complete—if that.

  One drink and she’d be out the door into the crisp, dark waves, unbolting this iron padlock on her sense of peace. After tonight, she’d have another month before she needed to worry about her next moonlit swim.

  Tomorrow would be a real cause for celebration. She pulled at her collar; even in the cool breeze, she felt sticky and scorched.

  “Come then.” Wyatt held out his hand to her. “I’ll take the flowers.”

  A small gesture. And one she couldn’t laugh off. All this was terribly new. The end of an evening, joining a man for a drink, alone in his home. She had side-stepped a few gentlemen’s evening kisses, more from disinterest than from fear that something would happen.

  Not so with Wyatt. She knew one false move and she’d be overpowered to resist her own urges. Too late now. He laced her fingers between his strong ones. They moved from the lot onto the sidewalk and stopped in front of the private gate.

  “What a place?” she murmured, unable to contain her smile. A tucked-away gem—the house sat back from the road, not far, and holding onto the gate, she admired the layout of a lovely formal garden.

  “Wait until you see the inside. The owner traveled extensively and surrounded himself with trinkets. He had the inside renovated from the 1920s.”

  “The owner is something of a South Beach icon. He has another house over by the golf course and a few condos here and on Key Biscayne. Now he’s living on Bimini.”

  “And how do you know that? Have you been here before?”

  She eyed the villa housed between a block of modern houses, townhomes, and two sleek restaurants; the street wasn’t busy, and all the more reason she couldn’t give up the idea of a swim tonight.

  She swung around to face him. “No. He’s tight with Sinclair. But I’ve never been here.”

  Here he went again. That same expression, just like when he’d asked about the structural engineer. Too much to interpret. Tomorrow, she’d be mistress of her emotions, not out of sorts, and near-crazy from primal urges that Wyatt provoked. She sincerely hoped, more uncertain than convinced.

  He keyed in the security code and pushed open the pedestrian side gate. Inside, a fountain pattered with spurts of water. Low lighting filled the tropical garden along the paved walk up to the front of the house. The garden and his face were shadowed with the moon hiding behind a patch of clouds.

  For a moment, she felt his hands brush past her arm, teasing and tingling her senses. All too soon the front door swung open and low, adagio, exotic strains of musical notes filled the entryway. Sconces lit the foyer, casting light into the hall over a checker-board marble floor. A gilded banister ran upstairs from the foyer. Marissa hesitated, uncertain if she was ready for this part of the evening.

  “After you.” Wyatt turned to wait for her to enter ahead of him. He followed close behind her, stopping to shut the door. The snick of hardware locking resounded inside the hall. Rebounded inside her body.

  “Our business is done. The purchase is done. What I agreed to—correct?” He stilled, his expression had become all-too-serious. He laid the flowers on the entry side-table.

  “The closing is officially the end. But from my vantage point … yes. Sinclair will attend the closing with you as you requested.” She struggled to keep a quaver at bay.

  “I’ve no intention of going to a closing. That’s the purpose of my financial staff. To be blunt, it’s the reason I choose someone such
as Sinclair and brought along Hannah. I trust them and I’m asking point blank, regarding business and transactions. You and I are done in that realm?”

  “The seller might refuse your offer.”

  “Do you genuinely think so? No, I believe your advice was well-seasoned. He hasn’t got another offer on the table. And considering our cash offer, the interest alone for the next thirty days is a well-planned lure. Sure the seller could counter. I could walk. The seller doesn’t know my position and I trust you that you haven’t sought to bump up the selling price. Knowing what I do, I doubt anyone would risk waiting for another buyer’s offer and possibly risk some financing fiasco.”

  “Don’t forget, the property has just been listed.”

  “Sweetheart, you know as well as I do, the owner will respond. I give him less than an hour to accept.” He pulled out his phone and pressed some numbers. “Sinclair, I need a favor. Call the seller and find out where my offer stands. I want an answer in ten minutes. I don’t expect any problems and make certain none exist.”

  She admired his take-charge attitude. Now, it was easy to admit his commanding nature really was one of his most attractive characteristics when she watched him in action. Funny how in the beginning, it wasn’t. The man expected results, and his reputation said he always got what he wanted.

  Marissa smiled to herself. She picked up a small porcelain vase, contemplating the fine detail. Victor’s villa was astounding. She’d expected outlandish and the whole house was beyond elegant and refined. She looked up by chance, nearly catching her breath. Wyatt had just set down his phone. He waited in the hallway. Shadows lazily came and went across his handsome features, feral in the dark. He unabashedly studied her. Isn’t this how they had started out today?

  Again, she refused to be unnerved. She glanced around the living room. “The house is stunning, just as you described. Do you like staying here?”