“Can you turn that up, please?” she asked the hotel’s reservation agent.
The woman obliged and the newscaster’s voice echoed throughout the lobby. “All flights leaving Nassau’s L. Pindling Airport have been canceled this evening.”
Sasha wanted to rewind the newscast, just to see if she’d misheard. She paced the floor, unsure of what to do. She tried her phone again, wanting to get through to the airline just to see for herself. She wanted to hear them say it personally—that her flight had been canceled. Spending another night in the Bahamas was not in the plans. However, she wasn’t completely disappointed. There was something about the handsome man who sat across the room watching her every move. His presence sent her hormones into a frenzy. And spending an extra night in the Bahamas might help her to understand exactly what it was she was feeling inside.
Chapter 5
Vince sat in a chair across the room and watched her, admired her. With his fingers intertwined, he made a slow circular motion with his thumbs. He took in her beautiful chestnut face and couldn’t remember ever seeing a prettier shade of brown. He traced her round lips with his eyes and imagined kissing them again. He’d watched her earlier at the ceremony as she’d made her way down the aisle. She’d taken his breath away. The satin dress had clung to her hips. He wondered how beautiful she would have looked in the ivory gown that her sister wore. He didn’t know very much about Sasha Winters, except that she was a workaholic and a bit self-absorbed.
He remembered the day she rammed her car into his at Derrick’s condo. She’d been so preoccupied and careless. She’d ruined the custom paint on his car, but it didn’t matter much. It had been painted by a good friend of his who owned a body shop in Atlanta. He would’ve touched it up for him for little to nothing. He’d given Sasha a hard time about it only because he felt she’d blown it off as unimportant. He’d been angry and had used the incident to teach her a lesson. He’d been interested in her the first time he saw her, though, but soon realized that she was in a relationship with someone else. Not that he was really ready for a relationship at the time. He was still sowing his wild oats, so to speak.
However, his days of being with multiple women were long over. In college, it had been a challenge among his friends and him to see who could bed the most women and share every detail with each other. As an athlete, Vince didn’t have to work very hard to win the challenge; women often chased him and became more accessible than he desired. They’d robbed him of the chase, and therefore caused him to become bored with the opposite sex. He wanted to be the chaser, and most women didn’t allow him to do that. Even well past his college days, and as he worked in his current profession, he had to fight off the advances of the single mothers who brought their children into his dental office. His admirers included a few married ones too.
Seeing Sasha in the Bahamas had instantly piqued his interest again. She’d been the first woman who’d captured his attention in a very long time. Her fiery attitude captivated him, and he found himself thinking about her when she wasn’t around. He thought of last night and how he’d carried her to her condo. She’d vomited all over the sandy beach and then passed out in his arms. Once inside her condo, she’d awakened and began to undress, begging him to do the same. He refused, but she was persistent.
“Come on,” she’d whispered in a slur, “what are you afraid of?”
“We can’t,” he’d whispered back, “as much as I’d like to...I can’t.”
She’d grabbed the buckle of his belt and struggled with it. Vince had grabbed her hands.
“Can you just hold me then?” she’d asked.
That is exactly what he’d done—held his strong arms around her naked body for most of the night, his chin resting upon the top of her head long after she’d fallen asleep. It felt good there. He felt as if he’d been her protector; he hoped that she’d felt safe in his arms. His manhood had grown hard and rested against the small of her back. He could easily have made love to her right then and there, but he didn’t want it like that. He wanted her—all of her and not just her body.
* * *
He glanced over at Sasha as she paced the floor in the hotel lobby and continued to try and reach an outside line. Finally she looked defeated and helpless. He wished he could fix things and make things right for her. It was what he did for the women in his life—his mother and younger sister. He took care of them.
After his father’s tragic heart attack, Vince became the man of the house at seventeen. So taking care of people had become second nature for him. He found himself doing it without thinking and driving his younger sister crazy in the process. Dating had become nearly impossible for Gabrielle Sullivan, and she told him so every chance she got. Having an older brother who thought he was her father had made her upbringing almost unbearable. He couldn’t wait to protect Sasha just as he had the other women in his life. If she’d give him half a chance, he’d take care of her for life. He wished he could make her problems at the moment disappear. However, truth be told, he reveled in the thought that she would be spending another night on the islands.
“Can I help?” he finally asked.
She looked at him, grinned and said, “Not unless you have a private jet that could get me to Savannah.”
“Unfortunately, I didn’t bring my private jet to the Bahamas. But I’ll be happy to take you back to my condo for a nightcap.”
“I just bet you would,” she said sarcastically and then tried making a call on her iPhone again. After which, she approached him and lowered her voice to whisper, “The last time we drank together we ended up doing things that I can’t even remember doing.”
“We did, didn’t we?” Vince mused. “I remember quite well.”
“You’re a pig,” Sasha growled, “and no, I will not be joining you in your room for a nightcap or anything else for that matter.”
“Suit yourself.” Vince stood. “You know where to find me if you need me.”
As he walked away, he thought of the look on Sasha’s face. She was appalled that he would suggest that she join him in his condo. He was very attracted to her—no doubt about it, but she was a tough one. She wasn’t like the women he’d dated in the past. In the past, he’d be making excuses as to why he couldn’t spend time with someone. He’d be avoiding or ducking and dodging. But not with Sasha. She intrigued him.
In his condo, Vince stripped down to his boxers and dress socks. His arms were mountains of chiseled muscle, and his legs were strong from playing football and running track in high school and college. Even now, he was a runner. Just this morning, he’d run along the beach after abruptly leaving Sasha’s room. Running relaxed him. It kept him balanced, especially during a time when he felt a little out of balance. Sasha did that to him—she caused him to think he could actually have a future with her, and he barely even knew her.
He placed ice cubes into a glass and poured scotch over them. After stirring the drink with his index finger, he stood in front of the glass patio door and watched the rain as it danced across the concrete outside. Darkness covered the sky, except for the occasional flash of lightning. He wondered if Sasha was still pacing the floor in the lobby or if she’d taken to walking back to the United States. The sound of Wayman Tisdale’s bass guitar bounced against the walls as he listened to jazz on his iPod from its docking station. He had a soft spot for jazz, contemporary and classic. Sometimes he enjoyed Coltrane or Miles Davis, and even a few jazz fusion artists like Michael Franks.
He barely heard the light tap on the door, but he slipped on a pair of sweatpants before seeing who it was. Peeping through the hole, he smiled as he watched Sasha become restless and check her watch. Just the sight of her made his heart beat faster. She had changed into a pair of jeans and a bright green T-shirt. He took in the curve of her hips and the way the snug T-shirt hugged her breasts.
Swinging the doo
r open, he said, “I thought you’d be halfway back to the States by now.”
“Very funny,” she said. “The electricity in my condo went out, and I just wondered...”
“...if you could borrow some of my mine?”
“I wondered if yours was out too.”
“Nah, I have lights.” Vince smiled. “And yes, you can borrow some. Please come in.”
“I was wondering if I could charge the battery on my phone.” She held her phone and charger in the air. “Completely dead.”
“No problem.”
“I hate to impose,” she stated apologetically, “and I would ask my sister, but she’s probably somewhere making babies with her new hubby.”
“Probably,” Vince agreed. “Why don’t you step inside?”
Sasha stepped into Vince’s condo and lingered near the door.
“Make yourself at home. There’s an outlet right here in the living area. Give it here and I’ll plug it in for you.”
She handed him her iPhone and he plugged it into the wall next to the lamp. She looked around, assessing the place.
“Your room is different. Bigger.”
“Different, yes. It’s not much bigger than your place, though. One bedroom, just like yours.”
“No really, your living area is bigger. And your kitchen seems more spacious.”
“I think you just see things a bit differently.” Vince moved in closer to Sasha. So much so that he could smell the mint in her mouth.
Soon, her back was against the door.
“And I think you’re rude,” she responded.
“I think you came by here to see me to take me up on my invitation for a nightcap.” Vince smiled. “You could’ve gone anywhere on this property to charge your phone, but you chose here. As a matter of fact, I don’t think that your electricity went out at all. I think you just needed an excuse to come to my room and seduce me.”
“Really?” She smiled, didn’t admit or deny.
“And furthermore, I think you want me to kiss your lips right now.” He leaned in closer, tried to brush his lips against hers, but she placed her long, skinny index finger against them.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.
“Trying to kiss you.”
“Who said that I wanted you to kiss me?” she asked.
“I just thought...”
“I don’t know what you thought, Mr. Sullivan, but—” she slipped away from the corner “—I just came to charge my phone.”
The patter of the rain outside his window sounded like music—intermingling with the sound of jazz playing on his iPod.
“Right,” he said, and went to the kitchen. He grabbed a beer from his refrigerator and held it in the air. “Would you like one?”
“Sure.” She slid into the green chair in the corner of the room.
He twisted the cap off the beer and handed her the bottle. “So, when did you first realize that you were attracted to me?” he asked.
“Excuse me? Who said I was attracted to you at all?”
“You are.” He smiled. “You can’t resist my charm, and you know it.”
“You’re very arrogant,” she stated, “and presumptuous.”
Ignoring her statement, he said, “I was attracted to you the moment I saw you at Bridget’s birthday party two years ago. You wore this gorgeous red dress with these big silver doohickeys in your ear.” He remembered because he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her the entire evening. “What is it with women and big earrings?”
“Um, I don’t know.”
Vince could tell that she was surprised by his revelation that he’d been attracted to her for a long time, and he realized that he’d said too much—given her too much. He walked toward the patio door while changing the subject. “Man, it’s really coming down out there.”
“I usually love the rain—when it’s not altering my plans.” She stood and walked over to the patio door to stand next to him. “I remember sitting on my parents’ porch when I was a little girl, watching the rain, wishing it would stop so that Bridget and I could go out and play.”
“Why didn’t you just go play in it?”
“Who does that?”
“Me! And every other child in America.” Vince smiled. “You mean you’ve never played in the rain?”
“On purpose?” she asked. “No, can’t say that I have.”
“What?” He gave her a look of shock. “You have to play in the rain at least once in your life, Sasha. It’s one of those things you have to do before you die. Where’s your audacity, your sense of adventure?”
“Who has time for adventure?”
“You make time for adventure!” He slid the patio door open then grabbed her by the hand. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” she asked as he pulled her along and through the patio doors.
“We’re going to play in the rain!”
“You mean in the storm?”
“Yes! Whatever you want to call it,” Vince stated.
“What about my hair?” Sasha shrieked.
“Your hair?” Vince asked. “Boy, you really are a black woman, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am. And I just got my hair done yesterday! And it wasn’t cheap.”
Before she could say another word, Vince had pulled her out into the rain and the two of them had rushed down the sidewalk. They were the only two souls outside, and Vince hoped that he hadn’t overstepped his bounds with Sasha. Not everyone enjoyed his carefree attitude and spontaneity. He sighed with relief when he heard her burst with laughter. They laughed together as the heavy raindrops pounded upon their heads—saturating Sasha’s freshly done coiffure. She didn’t even seem to mind after a while. He wrapped his strong arms around her from behind and squeezed her tightly. Her warmth felt good against his chest, and he could’ve stayed there forever.
Vince spotted an open door to the hotel’s kitchen.
“Let’s dip into here,” he stated.
“What?” Sasha hesitated. “We can’t go in there.”
Vince peeked inside to make sure the coast was clear before pulling Sasha in. They quickly moved across the tile flooring in the kitchen—past huge stainless steel sinks and a commercial refrigerator.
“What are you two doing?” asked a heavyset Bahamian woman wearing a crisp white chef’s jacket.
“We’re sorry, we just got a little turned around,” Vince lied and started walking back toward the door.
“A little turned around, eh? Come.” She smiled, and then stated in her Bahamian accent, “Since you’re here, I want you to taste some-ting.”
They followed the woman through the industrial kitchen and to a small table in the corner.
“I’m Clara, by the way,” she said. “And you are?”
Vince spoke first. “I’m Vince and this is Sasha.”
“Married?”
“We’re just friends,” Sasha quickly stated.
“Just friends, eh?” Clara asked as if she was skeptical about it.
Clara’s Bahamian features were strong; her face was a creamy, flawless dark brown. She reminded Vince of a woman he called Big Mama when he was growing up—his grandmother, whom he’d loved dearly. She’d passed away just a few years after he’d graduated dental school. It had felt as if his heart would never heal; Big Mama had been one of his favorite people.
“Sit,” Clara ordered and then walked over to the stove. She grabbed two bowls and filled them with rice and peas, then placed a bowl and fork in front of each of them. “I want you to taste my peas and rice. Tell me if you like.”
Vince didn’t hesitate to pick up his fork and dig in. He loved Bahamian dishes and was no stranger to peas and rice.
“Delicious!” he exclaimed with a
full mouth.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, child,” the woman scolded. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you dat?”
He chewed and swallowed before saying, “Yes, ma’am. Sorry.”
“I’m glad you like.” Clara smiled and looked at Sasha. “What about you, child?”
“It’s surprisingly good,” said Sasha. “I don’t usually like peas, but this is good.”
“Here.” Clara walked over to the stove, brought back a pan with fish in it. She placed fish on each of their plates.
She hadn’t bothered to ask if they’d eaten or if they even wanted to eat. She just placed food in front of them and demanded. The two of them ate like savages, and before they were allowed to leave the table, Clara had placed a johnnycake on each of their plates.
“Miss Clara, this is so good,” said Sasha. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“From my mother. Generations of cooks in our family.”
“Well, you were taught well,” said Vince.
“So what is the story with you two, eh?” Clara asked.
“What do you mean?” asked Sasha.
“Are you married, engaged, fooling around...what?” She folded her arms across her ample chest.
Vince and Sasha looked at each other.
“Just friends,” Sasha stated again.
“Barely even know each other,” Vince added.
“He’s not even my type,” said Sasha while stuffing her mouth with a huge chunk of johnnycake.
“Well, what is your type, honey?” asked Clara. “Because he’s as handsome as he wanna be.”
“Thank you, Miss Clara.” Vince smiled. “And yes, Sasha, what exactly is your type?”
“Uh...well...I don’t know,” Sasha stumbled. “It’s not like I’m looking.”
“She’s absolutely my type, Miss Clara,” Vince said. “She’s beautiful, intelligent, career-minded. She’s got those nice baby-bearing hips.”
Clara and Vince laughed heartily. Sasha frowned.
Tropical Fantasy Page 5