by Claire Adams
"All I know is you’re different, Tasha. And that doesn't have to mean anything. I just. . . I just like being near you." I held my breath and wished I hadn't said any of that.
Then she kissed me.
My breath never came back, and, for a moment, I thought maybe I'd passed out and it was all just a crazy dream. Then Tasha's sweet lips parted and the kiss deepened. I swung her around and pressed her against the cabin door, pouring more gasoline on our already blazing desire.
I pulled back. "Are you teasing me?" I croaked.
Tasha giggled and then pushed against the door, pressing every inch of her body against mine. "Maybe a little."
I brought one shaky hand up to her cheek and held our gaze until her teasing smile faded away. The heat was still there in her eyes, so I kissed her again.
I wasn't surprised when Tasha pushed against my chest and slipped away from the door. Then she went to the cabin's queen-sized bed and looked back at me. I couldn't move, maybe I was drowning. Every reasonable voice in my head was screaming to take it slow. Tasha was different, and I couldn't just go through my regular motions. There was more between us than I had ever felt before, and it was starting to feel like a powder-keg in my chest.
"I'm not teasing anymore," Tasha said.
I was across the room in two long strides, and I caught her waist tight in my arms. "No. I'm not going to screw this up. And I'm not going to let you do this," I said, letting go.
"Do what?" Tasha asked.
"Trick me into acting like any other playboy on a yacht. I want to take things slow," I said.
Tasha scowled. "First off, you keep telling me that I'm different, but you still assume that I have the same opinion of you as everyone else."
"Because you keep reminding me!" I couldn't keep my voice down, then cringed. "I'm sick of my reputation. I'm trying to change; it's time for me to change, grow up, whatever you want to call it."
"So, you've got a lot to prove," Tasha said. "I know what that's like."
"Then how do you do it?" I paced around the spacious cabin, passed the glowing lights of the Bay Bridge outside the windows.
"I figure out what I want, and then I go after it," Tasha said.
I turned just as she wrapped both arms around my neck. Her kiss wobbled my knees and I gasped for breath between her lips. "And what do you want?" I asked.
"You."
I shook my head though my hands wouldn't let go of Tasha. "No. No way. Someone will hear. We're on a yacht full of people just dying to find a scandal to talk about."
The chandelier above us rattled. A searing note reached us even in the private cabin and I wanted to shake a fist at my luck. Up on the main deck, the A-list performer grabbed the mic and shouted out a long list of compliments to his generous hosts. Then the drummer kicked off a heavy rhythm and the bass player was close behind. The door jam pulsed with the music, and I could barely hear myself think.
Tasha laughed. "What was that you were saying about someone hearing us?"
I struggled to take a deep breath as she walked over to the cabin door and casually locked it. Tasha was right. There was no way anyone would hear us over the lively performance.
"Someone's going to notice we're gone," I said.
"All eyes are on stage. Guaranteed. That's what Berger paid for," Tasha pointed out.
I held up both hands as she approached me again. "Why? Why do you want me?"
Tasha's eyes narrowed and her head tipped as she assessed our conversation like a business negotiation. With a slight nod, she decided it was best to tell me her reasons because she believed they might be common ground. A good starting place: "I want to have sex with you again because I think it'll help us both get this out of our systems."
I wanted to bash my head against the porthole window. She had voiced the very same argument I had used to justify sleeping with her in the first place. "Tasha, you can't be serious," I said.
Her chin tipped up. "Why not? Men get to have sex like that all the time."
I held up my hands again. "I'm not being sexist. I just want you to think about it."
Tasha shook her head. "I don't want to think. That's the whole point. If I just let myself feel this, then maybe it will subside."
My head spun over the fact that she was feeling something between us too. "It won't work," I said. "I've already tried it."
That stopped her. "You slept with me to get me out of your system?" she asked.
I nodded. "It made things worse. It made me want you even more."
A darker shade of expression veiled Tasha's eyes. She was worried, but her body seemed to be reacting on its own. She took a step forward, hesitated, and then flew back into my arms. Her kiss burned away any resistance that either of us felt. I tried to hold on, reminding myself where we were and what the crowd was like just down the hall. But, it didn't matter. The band raced into another pulsing song, and I lost control.
Tasha and I fell together onto the queen-sized bed. Her dress slipped off to reveal a sheer slip that ignited my blood. As her hands peeled off my suit coat and plucked loose my shirt, I tossed her dress over the back of a chair and let my lips skim the silk of her slip, and then her skin.
"This is what you want?" I asked.
Tasha nodded, tugging me up to kiss her again. I told myself to be careful of her hair, to be gentle, but her hips rose to meet me and all thought erased. Fireworks exploded from the back deck of the yacht and glittered down past our window.
#
The only reason I knew years hadn't passed since I raised my head was the fact that the band was still thumping away up on the main deck. I laid on my back staring at the long stretch of Golden Gate Bridge drifting past the porthole window.
Tasha sat up and reached for her dress.
"Did it work?" I asked.
"Funny," she said, "I never took you for insecure."
I sat up. "I meant did you get me out of your system?"
She glanced over her shoulder and then tugged her dress back into place. "I better get back to the party."
I raced to get dressed before she got to the cabin door. "What's the plan? Want me to go first and then text you the 'all clear?'"
Tasha straightened her shoulders and looked me dead in the eye. "I'm not going to skulk out of here like I did something wrong. Women are just as capable of having flings as men."
I pressed a hand to the door. "So, I'm a fling now?"
"You're in my way, that's what you are right now." She tugged open the cabin door but took a second to peek into the hallway before she left.
I could have stayed in the cabin all night trying to sort out what had just happened, but I was worried about Tasha. Was she upset? Had her little experiment worked and she was completely over me? I counted to sixty at a furious pace and then slipped out the cabin door and back down the narrow hallway.
Tasha turned away from the bar, where she had wisely stopped to make it look like she'd been there all along, and then she plunged into the crowd. Most people were aimed at the main deck where the music was still blasting. I grabbed a drink and followed the flow. Tasha's head bobbed across the room from me and I did my best to look casual while I tracked her.
I had to change course when Patricia caught my eye. She frowned at me, and it took all my restraint to smile back at her. Sure, my reputation was my fault, but the bitterness I felt from her wasn't helping. I hadn't made her do anything she didn't want to do. And it wasn't like she'd ever called me again. I wondered if Tasha was going to be the same. I made my way out onto the deck where I could still see Tasha through the windows.
It was quieter on the back deck, and I could hear normal, non-scandalous conversations going on all around me. I took a deep breath and realized I felt great. Underneath all the complications, I was happy, and I hoped that Tasha felt it too.
Stan caught me as I released a satisfied sigh. "You seem relaxed. Glad the GroGreen project is finally done?" Stan asked.
"No," I said. "It was ni
ce feeling like I was actually contributing. You know, instead of just being this playboy cartoon Hyperion trots out to appease the media."
"Oh, so it's all an act now, is it?" Stan asked. He planted his feet on the deck and looked me square in the eye. "You honestly think anyone is going to believe you've changed?"
I ground my teeth. Stan had a soft spot for Tasha. Beyond the rumors of a May-December romance, everyone at the office knew that Stan was grooming Tasha as his protege. Still, the way he looked at me made me think he knew more about Tasha's life than what happened in the office.
"Maybe it's people's perception of me that's changing," I said.
Stan chuckled, but there was no smile in his stern expression. "Well, either way, the GroGreen project is finished, and Tasha is moving on. Time for you to attach yourself to someone else."
"The media campaign might be over, but the application is still out there. The community garden idea is still out there, and I hear it's expanding," I said.
"Yes. I heard a private investor created a fund to help maintain community gardens all across the East Bay." Stan looked at me hard and then softened slightly. "I know Tasha would never be so frivolous, but she'll be happy to know someone did it."
I glanced out across the bay, irritated that Stan had seen through me so easily. "Someone who wants to remain anonymous."
"Good," Stan said. "Anonymous doesn't get in the way. Anonymous leaves Tasha alone because she deserves a chance to pursue her career without useless complications."
He flagged down a waiter, ordered two strong whiskeys, and then left me to wait at the railing until the yacht headed back to shore.
Chapter Fifteen
Tasha
I congratulated myself on getting to my office without breaking into a cold sweat. I expected to see Rainer around every corner, and, no matter what I told myself, I wasn't ready to face him. The rest of the weekend I had assured myself that I'd done the right thing. Now, maybe Rainer had gotten an idea of how his one-night stands felt, and I had gotten him out of my system.
I made it all the way to my temporary assistant's desk before my stomach dropped through the floor. On her computer was an entire photograph album from Berger's yacht party and Rainer was featured in many of the glamorous shots.
"Isn't he dreamy," Amy said. She noted that I was rooted to the floor next to her desk and jumped at the chance to give me her full opinion. "Ellison Ramsey has to be the most elegant woman I've ever seen. And she's going to marry Mr. Maxwell - that practically makes us family!"
"I'm not sure you should believe all the rumors," I said.
Amy shook her head. "No. They are definitely a power couple. Check this picture out."
I took a deep breath and held it before I faced my assistant's computer screen. Ellison did look glamorous, her perfect smile and stunning jewelry out-sparkling the San Francisco skyline behind her. Rainer was next to her, and I forced myself to look at his face. His public relations smile was set in place, but his gaze was far off camera. Was he searching the crowd for me?
My stomach did a funny little hop, and I bolted into my office. "Busy day for me," I told my assistant. "No calls this morning."
I dropped into my desk chair and stared at my blank computer screen. I only turned it on so I wouldn't see my own sullen face anymore. How was I supposed to convince Rainer was fine when I couldn't even smile?
I distracted myself by meticulously combing through my emails. It was cathartic to start at the bottom and delete all the old business that was already tied up. Then I got to the top of my inbox and saw the email from Stan about the community garden funding.
Someone had donated enough money to spread the campaign through the entire East Bay.
I snatched up my desk phone and dialed Ivy's number. "Are you the anonymous donor?" I asked as soon as my friend picked up.
"No, but it sounds intriguing. Tell me more," Ivy said.
My mind veered away from the obvious suspect, but I just had to ask, "Have you ever had sex with someone to get them out of your system? And did it work?"
"Oh, Tasha!" Ivy burst into laughter and gave herself a moment to calm down. Then she gave a rueful sigh and said, "Do you want my honest answer?"
"Yes, of course," I said.
"Fine. Then you're going to have to tell me who and what this is all about." Ivy's laugh bubbled through again. "The last time we talked you were going on a date with that hunky landscaper."
I groaned and leaned as far back as my creaky office chair would allow. "Yeah, that didn't really work out so well. He told me he didn't think I was over Rainer, and we left as friends."
"Yikes," Ivy said. "So, let me guess: this is about your dashing co-worker?"
"We're not even on the same project anymore. I mean, maybe we are now that someone funded community gardens for the entire East Bay," I said.
"So, you thought you'd sleep with him and that would be the end of it?" Ivy asked.
"Maybe it just hasn't set in yet." I tried to be hopeful. "You never did anything like that to get someone out of your system?"
Ivy smothered another laugh. "I tried, but it didn't work."
"Really, who?" I asked.
"My husband," Ivy said.
I sat up and then dropped my forehead to my desk. "Great. And now I might end up working with Rainer again. Are you sure you didn't fund the gardens just to play cupid?"
"Oh, wait. What if Rainer funded the campaign in order to keep working with you?!"
"Ivy, you're not helping," I said.
"Well, track the money and get back to me. Good luck, lady!" Ivy hung up the phone and left me speechless.
I went to work right away, trying to uncover who the anonymous donor could have been. My contacts in every Hyperion office tried to help out, but there was no tracing the source. Most people never imagined not-knowing would be a problem. They kept highlighting how great it was that my work with Rainer could continue.
I gave up after an hour and let my forehead sink back down to the cold surface of my desk.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your, ah, nap?" Amy bounced from one foot to the other in the doorway. "It's just that I read the email about the big donation and I wanted to see if we should celebrate."
"Thanks, but not now," I told my assistant.
She raised an imaginary glass anyway. "Well, here's to a great start. First the East Bay and then the whole world!"
I didn't want to admit it but my hapless, temporary assistant had given me a great idea. Amy swooped back out the doorway with a dramatic bow and went back to her internet surfing and gossip. I sat up and poised my fingers above my keyboard. I needed to pitch a new idea to Stan by the end of the day, and I'd been up all night trying to think of something I wanted to do that had the same positive impact as the GroGreen application ended up having.
Exactly what would I need to stretch the funding and expand our community gardens idea into a national campaign?
Brainstorming, problem-solving, and filling in the details gave me a few blissful hours of productive work. It felt like a tonic. When I was busy at work, my disastrous personal life could not intrude. Yes, I thought of Rainer every minute or so because he had been so integral to the original campaign, but I was able to stay focused on the work side of it through sheer will.
Once I had a working proposal, a list of critical questions, and detailed action steps, I sat back and let my mind drift for one moment. To the exact moment that Rainer lost control. We were at the foot of the queen-sized bed in the private cabin of Berger's luxury yacht, but it felt like a tsunami had hit me head-on. Rainer's ragged moan had reverberated through my body as well fell together onto the silken bedspread.
It was so vivid in my memory that, for a moment, I didn't understand how my pregnant sister could be standing in the doorway. I blinked hard and came back to reality in my office.
"Daydreaming?" Barbie backed out and checked my name on the door. "No. I have the right office, but what have you
done with my sister?"
"I'm fine," I said.
"That's what everyone who isn't fine says."
"How are you?" I asked Barbie.
She waddled over to one of the chairs that faced my desk and sank down. "Fine," she said, slightly out of breath.
I jumped up. "I'm sorry, Barbie. I can't believe you came all this way. And our office building must feel like one giant obstacle course. How are you doing, really?"
My sister slapped my hand away. "The baby's fine; I'm fine. Just uncomfortable."
I moved the other chair and then lifted her feet onto it. "I don't think you should be here. Big building, long elevator rides, all the crowds and the work and the stress. Are you sure you aren't overwhelmed?"
Barbie glared up at me. "Yes, yes, you work in a big, busy, impressive office building. I'm just so common that I can't even navigate the elevators."
"That's not what I meant," I told my sister.
"You know I'm impressed with you, but the rest of this? Who cares? I just came to get the scoop on Seth," Barbie said.
I groaned and retreated back around my desk to slump into my chair. "You could have just called."
"We both know you would have hung up on me," Barbie said. She gave me her best impish smile. "Now, give me all the juicy details."
I had never been so glad to see James Berger burst through my office door. "Oh, Berger. This is my sister, Barbie."
Berger's eyes grew big. "Sister? You have a sister?" Then he spotted Barbie's round stomach. "And you're going to be an aunt? Whoa, have you let HR know you might need time off?"
Barbie snorted. "It's not like she's going to push this thing out and need recovery time."
"True, true." Berger strode over and gave my sister his most gracious handshake. "You know, I didn't think the whole 'glowing' thing was real, but you look wonderful."
His gold Rolex flashed as he gently laid my sister's hand back down. Barbie looked at me and rolled her eyes. "So, these are the kind of big shots you're up against?"