“I’m Angel,” she said, taking it. Her fingers were long and elegant, cool and dry against his skin. “Angel Kinkaid.”
“The designer!”
She blushed slightly as he looked to the bag. “Is this… one of yours?”
“Yes, yes,” she said, with a slight accent he couldn’t quite place. “Do you like it?”
He blushed and said, “Well, not for me, but… my girlfriend would love one.”
“Girlfriend, hmmm,” she said, slinking down into the teacher’s chair and crossing long, elegant legs. She wore a pleated skirt, more silver than grey, and a black blouse, sleeveless, unbuttoned to a daring degree. She looked like she’d be more at home in the lobby bar of a five-star hotel than a community college classroom, but what did Derek know? “Don’t tell me she’s staying with you in one of our pitiful dorm rooms.”
“No, no,” he said. “She owns a bookstore back in Florida and that valise would be perfect for the paperwork she’s always lugging around.”
She arched one eyebrow, ignoring three-fourths of his story and focusing on the highlight. “Then you’re a bachelor this semester, eh?”
He nodded, something about the word sounding like the exact opposite of what he was. Or, at least, what he felt like he was. “Actually, I think… we’re across the hall from each other?” he offered. “I haven’t seen you yet, though.”
“I was late in getting here,” she explained, making a mock apologetic face as her eyes traveled up and down Derek’s body. “That’s why I’m early, to get ready for my first class.”
“Family emergency?” he asked, feeling uncomfortable beneath her intense scrutiny. Kendrick was right: She was stunning, exotic, even flawless in her beauty and yet her intensity was almost… intimidating. Derek had been with lots of women, more than his share, but felt like this one would prefer to devour her lovers after sex rather than cuddle or spoon.
“More like fashion emergency,” she said. “I had to audition my line for a boutique in Paris and last week was the only time they could fit me in, so… I just got into town.”
“Best excuse I ever heard,” Derek said, leaning against the desk and peering down into her bottomless green eyes. “Is that… where you’re from? Paris?”
“No, why?”
“Your accent.”
“It’s Russian, actually,” she said. “On my mother’s side, I… people find it exotic, which helps in fashion, so… I never bothered to get rid of it.”
“Don’t,” he blurted.
She looked up at him. Leered was more like it. “Why, Derek?” she teased, licking her lips in an unmistakable gesture. “You find it… sexy?”
As if on cue, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out, relieved to see Sage’s number. “I… it’s my publisher,” he lied, scrambling from the room. “Good luck with class!” he said, beating a hasty retreat as he drifted into an outer stairwell to take Sage’s call.
“What class?” she teased.
He chuckled, so relieved to hear her voice. He slipped right back into their easy way of talking. “It’s professor talk,” he joked, adopting a snooty tone. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Her laugh washed the run-in with Angel away, relieving him to no end as he sat on a top step, peering out at the small, isolated campus below and suddenly feeling more homesick than words could describe.
“No doubt,” she said. “How’s it going?”
“Sucks,” he blurted, his usual brave façade crumbling as he responded to the familiar strains of her voice. “I miss you, Sage. I miss everything we used to do, and not just the sexy stuff. The everyday stuff, like talking and hanging out and just being close to you.”
Her voice caught as she said, “Oh, baby, I’ve been so lonesome here without you. I thought it was just me who missed all that stuff.”
“Hell no,” he chuckled. “I wanna come home!”
“Selfishly,” she laughed, “I’d love nothing better, but… if you were going to do that, you probably would have done so by now, right?”
“I suppose,” he sighed. “Even though I’m homesick as hell I have to admit, I love the teaching. I wasn’t expecting that part.”
“Really?” she asked, sounding both surprised and elated.
“I didn’t think I would but… it’s kind of fun.”
“That’s awesome, Derek.”
“No,” he corrected her. “It’d be awesome if you were here to come home to every night and talk about how great teaching was that day.”
“That would be nice,” she murmured and, in the background, Derek heard the unmistakable sound of waves crashing on the beach. There were other noises, too: Bottles clinking together, the distant lilt of steel drums.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Our favorite table at Shuckers,” she said, almost sounding… guilty.
She should sound guilty! Suddenly, Derek was jealous. “Ah, wish I was there, babe. But tell Fiona I said ‘hi’.”
“She’s on maternity leave,” Sage snorted.
“What?” he chuckled. “I didn’t even know she was pregnant! When the hell did that happen?”
“I dunno, they’re… I’ve got to break in a new waiter, I guess.”
“Be gentle,” he said.
Her voice grew to a whisper as she purred, “I’m only gentle with you, baby.”
“Remember that,” he chuckled, thickening in the boxer shorts beneath his pleated khaki slacks. “You better be good while I’m gone.”
“I am,” she confessed. “I’m too sad to be anything else but good.”
He peered at the time on the phone, cursing. “What?” she asked, sounding alarmed.
“Nothing,” he assured her, standing and drifting down the stairs two at a time. “I have to turn in a progress report to the head of my department every Wednesday and I’m late, so…”
“That’s okay,” she sighed. “I see they found me a new waiter, so… call me later?”
“Don’t I always?” he chuckled. “I love you, Sage.”
“Me too, Derek. You know that. Right, baby?”
For once, Derek thought as he hung up and raced toward the Traveling Teachers Department, he actually did.
Chapter 5
Sage
Sage put down the phone and peered out at the waves. It was mid-afternoon on the east coast, her skin salty from a quick session in the surf while Colby trained April, her newest assistant manager, on the café side of the store back at Sequels Bookstore & Café.
Sage usually would have stuck around to help out with the training, but Colby accused her of wanting to “micro-manage” every bit of the “operations side” and, pretending to be offended, she’d taken the vague hint and struck out for the sea – never looking back.
“Good afternoon,” said a deep, rich voice as Sage turned to peer back at a handsome waiter, beaming down at her in his new Shuckers T-shirt. “I’m Craig, and I’ll be taking care of you this afternoon.”
“Hi, Craig,” she said. He was cute in a bookish way, with retro black frame glasses and a few days’ worth of stubble on his lean face. He had short brown hair under a crisp black Shuckers hat. “You must be new here?”
“First day on the floor by myself,” he said, blushing slightly. “I’ve been training for the last few nights.”
“I’ll make it painless on you, honest,” she teased, putting down her menu.
“You already know what you want?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“I’m a regular,” she shrugged, realizing how strange that phrase sounded on her tongue. After all, before Derek came into her life, she’d never even stepped foot into Shuckers, even though it was only a block away from Sequels. “So, I’ll just take the Surfer’s Special for one, one check and I’ll pay cash.”
“Man,” he said, putting away the little waiter’s notebook he’d been getting ready to scribble in. “I barely need a cash register for this one. If everyone was this easy, I guess we’d all be waiters! Be righ
t back with your drink.”
He drifted away, fit and trim in khaki cargo pants and a red Shuckers T-shirt. Finding herself watching his exit a little too closely, Sage sighed and pulled a copy of her latest literary obsession: The third installment of the amazing Country Cabin series. It was a humorous and thoroughly modern tale of two neighboring clans, and the young lovers from each family who defied all out civil war to be together. Kind of Romeo & Juliet meets the Hatfields and McCoys, by way of Duck Dynasty.
“I love that series,” Craig said, admiring her lurid book cover as he set down her draft beer.
“Yeah?” she asked, looking up and saving her space as she blushed slightly to be caught in the midst of her latest guilty pleasure.
“I’m only on Book 2, though, so… don’t spoil it for me.”
She chuckled, sliding it away. “I won’t, but… I’ll say this much without giving anything away: You’re gonna love it.”
He smirked, nodding and leaning casually against her table. “I can already tell the way Book 2 is shaping up. I’m about thirty pages in and I know I’ll finish it tonight after work and I don’t have Book 3 yet, so…”
Sage smirked and slid it across the table without a second thought. “You do now,” she said.
“What?” he gasped, looking lean and handsome and refreshingly close to her age in the waning orange-red sunset behind them. There was a sweetness about his eyes that captivated her, or maybe it was just his nerdy glasses and the books they had in common. Either way, she felt warm in places she shouldn’t, and hot in places she wouldn’t. “No, I couldn’t,” he protested, sliding it back to her. “Then you won’t have it, and I can see how much you enjoy it.”
“Check the bookmark,” she said, nodding toward the “Sequels” business card she always used in case she ever needed one on the fly – like right now. It was green with pink writing; she’d designed it herself and, looking at it now, she’s extremely proud of it.
“I know that place,” he said, nodding with recognition. “I… I should go in there some day. But… now you have to go buy one?”
“I own it,” she said, tapping her name on the card with obvious pride. “I’ll grab one after lunch today and probably finish it before you.”
He flushed, adorably, shaking his head. “What?” she asked, afraid that she’d offended him somehow.
“Nothing,” he hemmed. “It’s just… I always get my books online and now I feel bad because obviously small bookstore owners are actually real people and, here I am, right in front of one looking like a fool.”
“We’ve always have been real people,” she teased, admiring the way he pushed his adorably nerdy glasses up his adorably pug nose and peered back at her with adorably soft hazel eyes. “What did you think, we were robots or something?”
“Now that would make a good book!” he said, smiling down at her. Jesus, she thought, heart fluttering as she peered back at that smile. Was it just because she was so lonely that she found him so attractive or because he was actually just that attractive? Either way, she felt guilty for the feelings she was having, even if she had no control over them.
Or, she thought, perhaps she was guilty because she had no control over them. Sage had always prided herself on her control: At work, at home, in her personal and even her love life. Derek had taken that control and thrown it to the wayside. Or, perhaps, in her lustful zeal to be with him, Sage had tossed her control aside.
Either way, peering back at Craig, she wasn’t sure what he was to her: Waiter, new customer, new friend or… something else? Or maybe nothing? She had always made too much out of nothing, and maybe – hopefully – that’s all this was: Nothing. So why was she suddenly flustered, her belly tight and her voice giddy? And why was Craig treating her like she was his only table?
Chapter 6
Derek
Derek watched his cell phone skitter across the washing machine top and leapt for it, hoping it was Sage – finally! Instead it was just the spin cycle, kicking in, sending the phone vibrating across its surface without a call to be had.
“Shit,” he said, lighting up his latest text message thread – his third of the night – with another quick text home that read: “Just want to make sure you’re okay? Okay?!?”
Derek was pretty sure the second “okay” – to say nothing of the exclamation mark, question mark, extra exclamation point combo – made it clear that, no, things were definitely not okay.
At least, not from where he was standing.
“Dryer broken again?” came a voice from the doorway, almost making Derek drop his phone in the nearest washing machine.
He turned to find Angel Kinkaid, leaning in the doorway, fuzzy pink slippers on her feet, impossibly long legs drifting up toward the frayed bottom of a faded black concert shirt that looked more like it had been left in her apartment by an old boyfriend than something she’d buy for herself. Her black hair was up, piled on top of her head and held in place with two vibrant red chopsticks. Derek tried not to let his eyeballs bulge out of his head, but it was challenging. It was like a centerfold come to life.
“Do… what now?” he blathered, realizing he’d been openly ogling her. Then again, with a woman like her in an outfit like that, who could blame him?
She chuckled, breezily, easing into the laundry room on long, coltish legs that seemed to glide, as if she’d been trained to be a model, not just hire them to wear her clothes and accessories.
She’d been concealing a mesh bag over one shoulder, full of dirty clothes which she promptly dumped onto his closed washing machine top. “The dryer,” she purred as Derek inched back along one wall to give her room – and himself as much distance as possible from temptation. “It was broken the other day.”
“Oh,” he murmured, trying – and failing – not to admire the way the bottom curves of her flawless, round ass appeared every time she moved slightly to open up her mesh bag and reach inside. “I haven’t done laundry yet.”
She turned, black bra in one hand and matching pair of lacy silk panties in the other. “What?” she chuckled, looking him up and down and making him wish he’d worn more than a pair of baggy boxers and his last clean undershirt. “You must be one filthy boy.”
He blushed. “I mean here,” he chuckled. “I’ve been going to the laundromat across from campus but… it gets a little sketchy at night.”
She nodded, eyes lingering on him a little too long. Then she turned, sliding her unmentionables into the washing machine and reaching over – way over – to turn it on. As she did, Derek saw she was wearing a small pink thong.
He rolled his eyes and peered at the doorway, hoping no one was watching him watch her. Fortunately, he was still peering into the darkness when she turned back around, thinking him a perfect gentleman as she leaned with her back against the washing machine.
“So what was the ‘shit’ for?” she asked, soft brown eyes peering back at him, chin upturned, arms crossed over her breasts.
“Sorry?”
“When I walked in just now,” she reminded him, nodding toward the cell phone still clutched protectively in one hand. “You said ‘shit’. Why?”
He started to open his mouth and she held up a finger – long, nail painted with a sleek, glossy maroon. “Hold that thought,” she said, grabbing her mesh bag. “I just opened a bottle of wine in my dorm suite if you… if you want to wait for our laundry to finish there?”
“Sure,” he said, following her out. “Let me just change into something more presentable.”
“Why?” she said, waiting for him in the hall with a playful smirk. “I’m not going to.”
“Oh,” he said, as they stood between their doorways. “Oh. Well, in that case, sure…”
She pushed the door to her dorm suite open, revealing the effort she’d put into creating a cozy atmosphere for herself while she was in the Visiting Lecturer’s program. The generic lamps on the end tables on either side of her couch had been personalized with silk scarves of o
range and red, casting a soft glow across the room.
There were new throw pillows and wall hangings, framed black and white prints of sexy couples kissing in the rain, wearing skimpy, wet clothing. A cone of incense burned in a lotus flower bowl and small votive candles flickered hither and yon. True to her word, a bottle of red wine sat open on the coffee table, next to a half-empty glass.
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” he said, sinking down into the matching love seat next to the couch. “The most I’ve done to personalize my dorm suite is buy a couple of air fresheners from the campus bookstore.”
She stood in the small kitchen area, laughing as she grabbed another wine glass. “What did you say you wrote again?” she asked, sitting across from him and pouring the wine.
“Travel books.”
“You should switch to humor,” she said, handing him the glass. “You’re very funny.”
“I’ve been called a lot of things before,” he said, “but never funny.”
“Then you’re not hanging around with the right people,” Angel said, leaning back against the couch cushions and turning sideways slightly, bring her legs up alongside of her.
“I guess I am tonight,” he said, before sipping the wine. “Wow!”
“What?” She looked vaguely alarmed.
“Nothing, I just… I was expecting the same convenience store wine I’ve been drinking all week, but… this is good!”
“Do I look like I’d drink convenience store wine?” she purred and Derek quickly shook his head.
“No, I just… I haven’t ventured far enough off campus to find good wine like this.”
“And you call yourself a travel writer,” she teased, wagging a playful finger as she refilled her glass.
He chuckled and sat back slightly, sipping the wine. She peered at him openly, almost nakedly, if not quite hungrily. Her face was exotic and beautiful, effortlessly sexy, like her long, lanky body and the soft glow upon her bare legs.
“So,” she prodded, “you were going to tell me about the ‘shit’ comment before I kindly invited you into my home for this excellent wine.”
Waves of Passion: Contemporary Romance (Holidays Beach Read Book 3) Page 3