What the fuck was that? He had not asked her to share his bar table for the purpose of getting her naked and in his bed, but as they had laughed and talked and flirted, it appeared she was as interested as she was interesting. He was not one to hang about after the sex, ready to exit the bed when it was over. Holding and kissing were definitely not in the definition of a quick tumble. But that was exactly what he was doing—and what he wanted to do. Hold her and kiss her.
Her arms slid around him as well, and she snuggled her body tightly to his. As they continued to kiss, his cock began to stir once more. This time, though, he took his time. Exploring her body with slow, languid kisses, they made love long into the night before falling asleep in each other’s arms.
When he awoke the next morning, he was alone. Fuck.
Blake met Stanley for breakfast in the hotel and sighed as he watched the other man pick at his food, finally settling on toast and jelly along with his coffee.
Stanley looked over and shook his head at Blake’s plate filled with scrambled eggs, bacon, mango, papaya, rice, and blaff, a spicy fish chowder usually served at breakfast. “I don’t see how you can dare to eat foreign food,” Stanley grumbled. “You have no idea about the health standards in the restaurants here.”
“One of the best things about traveling to different places is trying the food.” Blake took a bite of his Roti and swallowed it down with a cup of Brazilian coffee. The flatbread, made from salt and flour and rolled around potatoes and cheese, was one of his favorites.
Shaking his head, Stanley continued his warnings. “I’ve heard of people who’ve gone to foreign countries and died because of what they ate!”
“And I’ve heard of people dying of boredom from never trying anything new.” He grimaced at his retort to Stanley’s comments and returned his attention to his delicious breakfast. Finishing his meal with a cup of hot chocolate mixed with tapioca, he was getting ready to push his seat back when Stanley surprised him.
“We have a little time before we go to the airport, and I’d like to do some shopping at the store in the hotel lobby. I want to pick up a few French Guiana items to take home with me.”
After glancing to the side through the lobby toward the store, Blake turned back slowly to pin Stanley with his hard stare. “You do know those items are for tourists, right? They’re not really French Guianan items. Most are probably made in China or India.”
Stanley waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, my mother and sister won’t care as long as I say I got them something from this trip.”
Sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Blake nodded, mentally counting down the hours until his mission was officially over. “I’m going to finish breakfast, and then I’ll head up to the room to get my bags.” He shook his head as Stanley hurried out. Sipping his coffee, he thought back to the previous night and how he wished the morning had not begun with him waking alone.
“Bonjour!” one of the servers called out.
“Bonjour,” a soft voice replied, causing Blake to jerk his head around, his gaze landing on its owner. He smiled, seeing Sara standing in the café.
The server continued, “Desirez vous autre chose?”
Shaking her head, she replied, “Non, merci.” She had a breakfast plate from the buffet and was searching for a seat in the crowded restaurant.
Dressed more casually than she had been last night, she was wearing pale blue capris and a white fitted tank top covered by a pale blue blouse tied at the waist. The blouse was loose but unable to hide her feminine curves. Curves that he knew intimately.
Her legs were shapely, ending in pink-painted toenails encased in white sandals that gave her a few extra inches with their wedges. Even with her shoes, Blake knew he would tower over her. Her gaze landed on him, and her lips curved gently.
Standing just as he had last night at the bar, he waved toward the chair across from him. She laughed, and the delicate sound moved straight through him. He stepped around to the chair that Stanley had abandoned, glad that the servers had taken the plate away.
“Good morning,” she greeted, her smile now wide as she held his gaze. “Are you sure you don’t mind sharing your table?”
“Not at all. The man I’m traveling with has already finished his breakfast, and I hate to have this table all to myself. I’d love to have you join me. I was hoping I would get a chance to see you this morning. I’m afraid that waking up alone was not very satisfying.”
She laughed again and lifted an eyebrow. “And were you satisfied last night?”
Grinning in return, he replied, “I think that must’ve been very apparent. If it wasn’t, my technique is way off.”
“I assure you, Blake, your technique is not off!”
He reached across the table and took her hand, giving a little squeeze. “All joking aside, Sara, I really did want to see you again. I hated that you were gone this morning, but I understand.”
“If I'm honest, I have to say that I didn’t want to leave. My time with you was very special, but I knew I had to get back to my room and pack.” She lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug. “I also didn’t want it to be awkward for you.”
He shook his head, keeping his eyes on hers. “There was nothing about being with you that would’ve been awkward, even saying goodbye.”
“Then I’m thrilled that we can at least have this last breakfast together.”
He settled back into his seat and glanced at her plate, pleased to see that it was similar to his. He watched with interest as she dug into the fish chowder.
Her eyes watered slightly, and she covered her mouth with her napkin as she swallowed. “I’m so sorry. I love this dish, but it’s really spicy.”
He chuckled while pouring bottled water into her glass. “It’s nice to see someone enjoying the local flavor. My traveling companion doesn’t share the same outlook.”
Eyes wide, she took a sip of water then replied, “I love trying new things. It’s one of the reasons I so enjoy traveling.” She continued to eat the variety of food on her plate, and after adding sugar to her coffee took a long sip, murmuring in appreciation.
He stared at the beautiful woman sitting across from him and could not help but think he wished he had met her earlier. So far, everything about her was perfect.
Seeing Blake in the bar the previous evening, Sara was thrilled to accept his invitation to share his bar table. When they began chatting, she had no thoughts of a fling, but they flirted easily, and it was hard to keep her libido in check. She was not morally opposed to casual encounters but had never found anyone interesting enough to give in to the temptation. Now, she found herself wanting to do something daring...something different. And when he invited her into his room, her heart had pounded and her gaze settled on his sensuous mouth once more, wanting to taste the whiskey lips to see if he was as delicious as she imagined he would be.
And once she was inside, she attacked him, barely waiting to tear his clothes off. The sex had been off the charts for her. Everything about him cried out for her to be daring. The first time had been frantic and fun, but after that, their movements seemed to take on a different meaning. Slow exploration. Long kisses. And then, finally, falling asleep, tangled up together, her cheek on his chest, her finger tracing the tattoo of a lighthouse on his shoulder.
It had been hard walking away this morning, but not used to one-night stands, she was uncertain of the proper protocol. She knew she needed to pack and decided that slipping out would be the best course of action.
Entering the restaurant this morning, she glanced to the side and saw Blake staring at her, a smile on his lips. Relieved, she approached and was thrilled that he offered his table for her use.
His voice was as deep and smooth and every bit as luscious as she had remembered. Glancing down at his hand, she blushed, thinking of it caressing her body. Forcing those thoughts from her mind, she focused on her breakfast.
His gaze shifted about her head. “I know I said this l
ast night, but your hair is beautiful. Very distinctive.”
She finished chewing, swallowing more of the spicy fish. “I get that a lot. My father was a redhead, and my mother was a blonde, and I’ve ended up with an interesting mixture of both.” She cocked her head to the side, biting her lip as she peered at him. “You know, we didn’t really share a lot of personal information last night. You have an interesting accent. You sound like you’re from the West Coast, but I swear I pick up a little New England.”
Laughing, he said, “You’re right. I should apologize, but it seems like last night we both had a different kind of personal knowledge we wanted to share.”
She tried to hold in her laughter, but it came out as a snort instead. “Oh, God, you’re so right. I’m afraid I really wasn’t sure about the rules. I’m not much for flings, but you’re...well, let’s just say I was very interested.”
“I’m impressed with your honesty. I was very interested, too. I’m sorry we didn’t meet earlier in the trip. But back to your question, yes, I’m originally from California, but I now work in Maine.” He held her gaze, then asked, “Are you a linguistics expert besides a translator?”
Scrunching her nose, she shrugged. “Not really an expert. I have a good ear for accents and languages. I work for a company that’s based out of New York City and provides translators for government meetings, companies, summits, and conferences. I’m sometimes used as a translator for the United Nations.”
“Is this your first time to French Guiana?”
She nodded, swallowing another bite of breakfast. “I do most of my translating virtually on the Internet, so I was nervous but excited for this job. But it’s been so much fun, and I’ve loved meeting the other translators.”
“Have you been able to see much besides just the university?”
“I’ve done most of my shopping in the Plaza and in the little shops around the city. I like to find out-of-the-way places to shop and eat.” He smiled as though he liked her answer, and she wondered if it was a shared interest.
He leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily. “I’m afraid I haven’t been able to get out nearly as much as I would’ve liked to.”
“Co-worker? The man you were with earlier?”
Shaking his head slightly, he simply shrugged.
Grinning, she added, “To be honest, when I first saw you, I thought you might be his bodyguard.”
He threw his head back and laughed, and she was mesmerized by how he became even more handsome. He dropped his gaze back to her, his mirth still evident. “I suppose that’s not too far off the mark, but considering he never goes anywhere except the hotel or university, I haven’t had to work too hard.”
“What’s the point of coming to another country and not experiencing it?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
By now, she had finished her breakfast and leaned back, patting her stomach. “At the risk of sounding cliché, there was a scarf in the hotel shop that caught my eye. I bought one like it at a street vendor but decided I wanted another one. I suppose I should go purchase it now before I need to finish packing.” She hesitated, fiddling with her napkin, hating to get up from the table and leave.
Blake jumped to his feet, holding his hand out to her. She accepted it, and he assisted her from her chair. “My co-worker has actually gone to the shop, and I was going to head there after breakfast. I’d love to walk with you…anything to prolong our time together.”
She smiled in genuine pleasure. “Then I’d love to have your company.”
As they walked across the wide lobby toward the shop, she wished she had met him earlier in the trip so that she would have had more time with him. Glancing to the side and up, seeing his arresting face, she knew she had no regrets about their night together.
They walked into the shop together, and the salesclerk greeted, “Bonjour.”
“Bonjour,” she replied, reluctantly letting go of Blake’s arm.
Hearing a raised voice, she glanced to the side, seeing the man who had been at the summit with Blake talking loudly with the salesclerk. Pursing her lips, she asked, “I wonder why some people think if you talk louder to someone who speaks a different language it will make them understand you?”
“I feel like I should apologize for him.”
Laughing, she shook her head. “No, no. Not at all.” She moved to the display of scarves and picked up the one that she had seen the previous day. Blake was still standing close to her, and she said, “This is a habit started by my mother. She always purchased a scarf from the places she traveled to. Mom always said scarves were lightweight, easy to pack, and fun to wear to keep memories alive when she went back home.”
He looked at the scarf in her hands, and said, “Definitely, that’s the one. It just looks like...well, you.”
The man at the jewelry counter was still talking loudly, and Blake rolled his eyes before heading to his co-worker to see if he could defuse the situation. Sara watched him walk away, having to admit that the back of him was every bit as delicious as the front. Giving her head a little shake, she turned her attention back to the scarves, a smile on her face.
4
As Blake moved toward Stanley he could barely hide his irritation. He had finally met the beautiful redheaded Sara, had an amazing night with her, and now it was time for them to fly home just as he was getting to know her better.
Seeing that Stanley was simply trying to understand the prices of the jewelry, Blake decided to move back over to Sara, determined to spend a few more moments in her company. He glanced up as several more customers came in, some from the hotel lobby and others from the door leading to the sidewalk outside. An elderly couple was looking at some of the artwork, speaking Spanish to each other. A pregnant woman wandered in from the outside, chatting in French to the salesclerk.
He had only taken two steps toward Sara when a squeak of fear sounded from the other side of the shop. His gaze jerked over, landing on three masked men who had entered, each holding a gun.
Instantly assessing, he watched as two of them headed straight to the jewelry counter and the third positioned himself where he could keep his eyes on the whole shop. The older man held his arm out, trying to shield his wife. The pregnant woman was standing closest to Sara, and with his peripheral vision, he could see that Sara moved slightly in front of her, offering whatever protection she could. Stanley, still at the jewelry counter, began babbling.
“Oh, my God, you’ve got guns! I don’t know anything! I don’t have anything!”
One of the men shoved Stanley out of the way and began speaking in rapid-fire words, but Blake was not sure what language it was. He thought it was French, and the store clerk appeared to understand the language, or at least understand what the gun pointed toward him meant. The clerk took the cloth bag in his shaking hands and began filling it with the diamond jewelry.
Blake had a holstered gun underneath his jacket but knew he could not get to it safely without risking the other customers. Fuck, if it was just me, I could take all three out. The thieves were of slight build and less than six feet tall. The one holding the bag for the salesclerk was sweating profusely, and Blake would have bet this was his first robbery. The one next to him appeared twitchy, his nerves showing. Blake slid his eyes back to the one watching the customers. He’s the fuckin’ leader. Even with a black bandanna tight across the lower half of his face, it was easy to see the man was not sweating, and his eyes were clear and sharp.
Blake glanced down at Stanley, who was cowering on the floor. My job is to keep my mission safe. A slight movement caught his eye, and he glanced back to Sara, who had managed to slide completely in front of the pregnant woman, her arms out slightly from her sides offering more protection. Admiration along with fear for her moved through his mind.
The salesclerk made quick work of filling the bag with jewelry, and the two thieves stepped back to the one eyeing the group.
Blake breathed steadily. Okay, you got what you c
ame for. Now just leave. Nice and easy.
The leader stepped closer to Sara, lifted the butt of his gun, and ran it along her cheek. “Belle,” he said.
Lips pinched, she whimpered slightly, and Blake’s fingers twitched at his side, desperate to take the man down. The leader reached his hand out, clamped it around Sara’s upper arm and jerked her forward.
Blake held his body in check, memorizing everything he could. The man had a small scar over his left eyebrow. He was only about five feet-eight inches tall, and as he swung Sara around in front of him, Blake could see a tattoo on the back of the man’s wrist.
The leader stepped toward the outside door, Sara’s arm still firmly in his grasp as he dragged her along.
“No!” she cried, attempting to dig her heels in. The leader had his gun pointed straight to her face, but that did not seem to stop her. When he swung the weapon toward the pregnant woman, Sara gasped, eyes wide.
Blake watched the instant realization hit her, and she stopped struggling. Her gaze swung around to him just as the men pushed through the door leading to the street. Wide-eyed. Terrified. Gaze boring straight into his.
Whirling, he shouted to the clerk, “Call the police!” To Stanley, still on the floor, he shouted, “Stay where you are!”
He rushed to the door, observing the thieves running down the sidewalk toward the beach, Sara still clutched by the arm, stumbling along. Unable to get a clear shot as they weaved amongst early hotel guests heading to the pool, he raced after them.
At first, he assumed they would make their getaway from the hotel’s parking lot, but instead, they continued down the path, past the swimming pool, toward the beach. Fear clutched his heart as he thought of a water escape, and he sped after them, the adrenaline pumping through his body giving him even greater speed.
In the distance, through the palm trees, he spied a small motorboat just offshore. The first two thieves raced into the water, their leader lagging behind as he continued to drag Sara along.
Blake (Lighthouse Security Investigations Book 5) Page 3