Unbelievable

by Callie Harper

  “This time of year pineapples are in season. I’d love to feed you a fresh pineapple. Ripe and juicy.”

  “Colt, I can’t just up and leave. I run a business!”

  “I wish I knew what that were like.”

  OK, he had a point. He ran a business, quite a large one at that. But he had a big team of people on whom he could depend. “I don’t have anyone to look after the store,” I reminded him.

  “Yes, you do. You told me you have a woman who works for you.”

  “I don’t think I could trust her with the store for days on end.”

  “Caroline, do you have trust issues?”

  “Oh, now I have psychological problems because I won’t fly to Fiji with you at the drop of a hat?”

  “Who’s flying to Fiji?” Zoe walked into the kitchen looking suspicious.

  “I’ve got to go.” I ended the call and met her wary gaze.

  “Who was that on the phone?”

  “Colton Kavanaugh. The man who took me to dinner last week.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “The corporate creep?”

  “I don’t know if I’d call him that.”

  “How about rich asshole trying to build up our coastline and tear down your store?”

  “Not sure I’d call him that either.” I tilted my head, scratching behind my ear, uncomfortable.

  “Don’t tell me you’re falling for his bullshit.”

  “Zoe.” Exasperated, hands up on my hips, I summoned the command of my 26-years, a full five more than she had. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “How could you trust a guy like him? He’s, like, every corporate sleezeball I’ve ever seen in a movie wrapped up into one guy.”

  “Maybe you’ve seen a lot of stupid movies?”

  “Mom and Dad would hate him.”

  “Yeah, well, they loved Evan. So, I’m not sure how much I should listen to their opinion.” They’d thought Evan had been so cool with his guitar and his surfboard and his “follow which way the wind blows” attitude. They’d even joked around with him about how he’d be good for me and loosen me up. I was their uptight child. It never seemed to occur to them that I was uptight because I had to be. Someone in the family had to put dinner on the table.

  “Why do you hate Colt so much?” I turned the questions back on Zoe. “Is it just because he’s rich?”

  “It’s not only that, its everything he represents. The entitled asshole guy who’s been given everything he’s wanted in life. Why does he want to take you to Fiji, anyway?”

  “To check out an eco-resort and see if something like it could be built here, too.”

  “So it’s not because he likes you.”

  I flinched. “Zoe, that’s kind of mean.” I turned my back on her and started to leave the room. I didn’t mind talking about Colt, but once she started in on me I was less interested in having the conversation.

  “All I’m doing is pointing out the obvious. He wants to take you to Fiji to end that protest you started.”

  “He doesn’t have to take me to Fiji to do that.” I spun around. “He wants to take me because he wants to go to Fiji with me! Is that so hard to believe? And maybe I want to go to Fiji with him!” Funny how quickly I shifted gears, from telling Colt I couldn’t go to defending my right to go.

  “What will I eat while you’re gone?” Now Zoe got big-eyed and sad-looking.

  “You’re a big girl. You can handle it.” I wasn’t having her drama.

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  “I’m going to make my own decision, Zoe.”

  Now she stormed out, leaving early for her night shift. I stood there, upset, wondering if I’d been out of line or was she being a giant brat? I felt so unmoored. Colt was knocking everything in my life completely out of balance. I didn’t know yet if that was a bad or a good thing.

  My phone rang again. Of course it was Colt.

  “My pilot needs to know where he’s taking me after my meeting.”

  “Where’s your meeting again?”

  “Seattle. And I want to fly back to Redwood Bay afterward. What do you think, Caroline? Would you like to see me again?”

  I paused, so many emotions flooding me. But if I made things simple and just thought about his question, the answer was yes. Hell yes, I wanted to see him again. “I’m off work at three tomorrow,” I offered.

  “I don’t mean tomorrow. I mean tonight.”

  “Well, yes I want to see you, but—” Tonight? My head was spinning.

  “Good. We can discuss leaving for Fiji later this week.”

  “Are you always this relentless?”

  “Always.”

  “Do you always get what you want?”

  “Yes. I’ll see you later, Caroline.”

  And he was off to his jet-setting life, taking a meeting in the next state. He was probably playing a round of golf with the CEOs of Amazon and Starbucks. Maybe he could get me a couple of gift cards.

  This whole thing was unbelievable. And maybe Zoe was right, maybe he was the living embodiment of a corporate titan, a raider stomping his way through life, plundering and wreaking havoc without a care or concern for the little people. But even if he was, couldn’t I just enjoy myself for once? The man looked like a Calvin Klein underwear ad. Or at least that’s how I pictured him without his shirt on, standing there in boxer briefs, all abs and pecs, giving me that “you know you want it” sexy smile.

  And he wanted to take me to a lavish resort in Fiji!! FIJI! Maybe I should figure out where that was?

  Curling up on my couch, I opened my laptop and searched. Up popped images of turquoise waters and white sandy beaches, palm trees and perfectly light blue skies without a cloud in sight. Oh my. I already felt warmer, right down to my toes, just looking at those pictures. It was March, which in Oregon meant fog and more fog with a side of fog. That pretty much described every month of weather on our coast, at least in the mornings.

  I did love it. I wasn’t trying to trash our little town. But even I had to admit, it wore on me after a while. Those bright colors popping off of my screen, the vibrant greens and blue of the tropics? They seemed like the perfect antidote.

  Jumping up, I headed down and into the spooky basement of our shared rental house. We had storage space down there, and I thought I had a suitcase but I wasn’t even sure it would be usable. But I got lucky. After I scrubbed off the mildew, it looked fine. Colt’s luggage would probably thumb its nose at mine, but I wouldn’t care so long as it transported my belongings from this side of the earth to the other.

  Before I could start thinking too hard and psyching myself out, I started throwing clothes onto my bed. It soon looked like a schizophrenic had been hard at work. First, a pair of sensible pants and a long-sleeved, high-necked top. We were supposed to be discussing business, after all. Then a pair of lacy panties and a matching bra. Because I did hope Colt would strip me down in the heat of passion. But then again, maybe Zoe was right and this was just his way of trying to settle the protest? Better pack another sensible shirt and shorts.

  But where was that bikini? I did have one, an impulse online purchase from a couple years ago. I’d never worn it. Maybe I should try it on?

  I found it, balled up in the back of a drawer, barely enough fabric to really be considered a bathing suit. I fastened the ties and stood there, looking at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of my door. What would Colt think of me in this? I was all curves, bursting at the seams, popping out on top, the ties on my hips barely seeming like they would hold. He could undo it all with the flick of a finger.

  I’d been too shy to wear it until now. And when would I have had occasion to slip into it? We barely had enough hot sunny days on our coastline, and a bikini like this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing I could run around in outside. We had a local pool and sometimes I went there, usually with Zoe, but again, I’d never wanted to attract too much attention.

  But with Colt? In Fiji? I wanted al
l of his attention. I wanted to feel what it would be like to be adored. To have a man rub me down with oil and love each and every one of my curves. Was that so wrong?

  My phone blipped with a text from Hannah: call me.

  Hastily, and a little guiltily, I took off the bikini and added it to the eclectic mix of clothes. I slipped on a sundress instead, giving myself a twirl in the mirror before I called Hannah back. Yes, I was definitely packing that sundress. It swished and swirled around me, making me feel decadent and relaxed and I hadn’t even stepped on the plane.

  “What’s this about Fiji?!?” she asked, sounding as excited and bewildered as I felt. I explained it to her, including the fact that I hadn’t said yes. Yet.

  “You have to go,” she declared, end of debate. “But promise me you won’t get all starry-eyed over him?”

  “Starry-eyed?” I knew what she meant, but my ego felt bruised. Did she not think I could handle this?

  “You know what I mean,” she said. “Don’t start writing ‘Mrs. Caroline Kavanaugh’ all over your notebooks. Though, actually, that sounds kind of cool. Caroline Kavanaugh.”

  “Way too upper crust.” I shook my head.

  “That’s the spirit,” Hannah praised me. “You’ve got to enjoy this, Carrie. But don’t expect more.”

  “I know, I know.” Another call beeped on my phone. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.” It was Colt calling me again.

  “Promise me you’ll let me help you pack!” Hannah issued a parting warning. She’d instantly take out all the sensible items I had.

  “Hey.” I sounded breathless already as I greeted Colt. He had that instant effect on me. “Are you just doing this to make the environmental protests go away?” The question left my mouth before I’d even decided to ask it. I guessed Zoe’s accusations had taken more root than I’d thought.

  “Oh, Caroline,” Colt scoffed. I did like how he used my full name, dripping it off of his lips like honey. “These protestors are no match for me. I could make them all go away with a snap of my fingers.”

  “Then why do you want to take me to Fiji?”

  “To spend time with you. Don’t you want to spend time with me?”

  Oh yes, I did, but doubt still licked at my heels. “Why aren’t you taking a woman from your harem?”

  “My harem?”

  “You know, those women you always have on your arm. At all those black tie events you go to.”

  I could hear a smile in his words. “Has someone been googling me?”

  Busted. How else would I have seen those photos of him? “Maybe,” I confessed.

  “Is it because you can’t stop thinking about me?”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Maybe.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed and he sounded dead serious. We were both silent for a moment. I could hear him breathing.

  “Are you home?” he finally asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good, because I’m pulling up in front of your house.”

  My heart leapt as I put down the phone. He was already here? I was still in my sun dress. He’d obviously know I was trying it on for the trip to Fiji. So much for playing coy.

  But suddenly I didn’t want to play coy anymore. I’d always dreamed about traveling, exploring far-away places. I decided right then and there. I was going to Fiji.

  I opened the door and he was inside in an instant, wrapping his arms around my waist and bending me in a heated kiss. His lips devoured mine, tasting, teasing, drinking me in.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” he exhaled, holding me close. “I like this dress.” He stepped away for a second, admiring my figure.

  “You want something to drink?” I offered, walking him into our tiny kitchen.

  “Maybe.” He followed me, close. “What do you have?” He eyed me, wolfishly, and surprised me by circling me in his arms and lifting me up onto the kitchen countertop.

  “What are you doing?” I laughed, breathlessly. With his hands on either side of my body, he leaned down and looked at me intently as he spoke.

  “You need to come with me to Fiji.”

  “For business purposes,” I answered him, looking serious. I didn’t know any more, was I teasing him? Testing him? Telling him? All I knew was my heart was pounding and I was having more fun than I’d had in a long, long time.

  “Strictly business,” he agreed, dipping his mouth down to the curve of my neck, licking and sucking.

  “Yes,” I exhaled, my eyes flickering closed, my hand entwining in his thick, dark hair. “No… shenanigans.”

  “Nothing of the sort.” His lips trailed over to the spaghetti strap of my dress, then down along the edge of the low-cut neckline. “I would never do anything you don’t want me to do.” I shivered at his words, knowing how very many things I wanted him to do to me.

  “You smell like honey.” He licked as he spoke, sucking at my skin, working his way down to my cleavage. “You taste like honey, too.”

  “I use a lot of honey in baking,” I murmured. He drew up and gave me a mischievous grin. I nearly groaned in protest as he stopped. I didn’t want him to stop for a second. But then I saw what he was doing with his hand. I had a small pot of honey on the counter next to me. He picked it up.

  “What are you—?” My eyes widened as I watched him pull at my dress. The straps fell down my shoulders and the fabric pooled down at my waist, leaving my breasts bare for him in no time. He took the swizzle stick from the pot of honey and drizzled it on my stiff nipples.

  “So sweet,” he murmured, dropping his head to lick and suck my aching tips, laving me and groaning. I brought my hands up to his head, his shoulders, his back, crazy for him.

  “Now be good,” he cautioned me, pulling away once again. “Hands down on the counter or you won’t get what you want.”

  Panting, wide-eyed, I brought my hands to the countertop along ether side of my hips.

  “Arch your tits up for me baby,” he murmured, husky. His words made me so wet, and a moan escaped my lips as I arched my back, displaying my breasts like he’d told me.

  “That’s it,” he praised me, drizzling more honey on my nipples. This time he watched it ooze, dripping its way down my large breasts. “Fucking gorgeous,” he said, sounding amazed.

  Bending down to flick, then give a soft lick to my nipples, he asked, “Do you like how I play with you?”

  “Yes.” I had to be honest. I couldn’t tease anymore just then, not when I was practically slipping off the counter he’d made me so wet.

  “I love your fat nipples,” he groaned, sinking his head down to suck and bite. “You have no idea what you do to me.” I moaned, keeping my hands where he wanted them but pushing my breasts toward him, wanting more.

  “I liked how you came for me on the phone the other night,” he whispered, licking his way between my breasts. “Have you thought about that since?”

  “Yes,” I admitted.

  “Have you touched yourself again?”

  “Yes.” I loved confessing it to him. He made me want to be so naughty.

  He pulled away with a groan. “I beat off like a teenager. My cock was hard the whole week I was away from you.” He brought his hand down, cupping it under my bottom. Nuzzling my neck, he asked, “are you wet for me right now?”

  “Yes,” I sighed, opening my legs for him, my need taking me past shyness.

  “I can’t stop thinking about how you felt when you came on my fingers, so hot and sticky sweet. I want to lick your honey. Would you like that?”

  A groan was all I could manage as he kneeled down, bringing his face at the level of my pussy. His large, commanding hands spread open my thighs on the counter, pulling my dress up.

  “Fuck,” he exhaled, “no panties.”

  “I was trying on clothes,” I panted.

  “I want you like this the whole time we’re in Fiji. Don’t even bring panties.”

  He leaned in and drew a long, slow lick across my pussy.
I nearly came at first contact. But then he spread me open and really started in, growling as he ate me, feasted on me, circling my clit, tongue-fucking my hole, until I leaned back and came full and hard for him. He licked and sucked every last drop like he’d never tasted anything so good.

  Panting, dazed, I met his intense, relentless gaze. I could tell, he had a lot more in store for me. Watch out Fiji, here we come.

  CHAPTER 11

  Colt

  To say I was thrilled that Caroline had said yes would be a massive understatement. I was over the moon. Her shy, happy face looking at me in her tiny kitchen and telling me yes, she’d go with me to Fiji? It filled my heart.

  I wasn’t used to having that kind of reaction. Neutral, cool, that was how I played things personally and professionally. I’d seen people get destroyed by emotions. My own mother, for example. She’d been wrecked when she’d discovered my father’s infidelity. She’d had a full-on collapse.

  That had been a brutal lesson, early on in my life: don’t get overly attached to relationships. If my mother had seen her marriage to my father for what it was—a business arrangement, not a union of love—she wouldn’t have felt so ransacked when she’d learned the truth. To my father, extramarital affairs didn’t mean he wanted a divorce. He was perfectly willing to stay married, keeping my mother in the style to which she was accustomed. But he also wanted to sleep with other women. If my mother had understood that from the outset, his cheating wouldn’t have hurt so much. Instead, when she’d discovered his infidelity, she’d attempted to take her own life, then nearly lost custody of her children due to a year-long stint in a mental institution. As the oldest, I was the only one of her children who knew about all that.

  It only made sense, then, that I’d always made a point of keeping my heart out of any and all transactions. I knew first hand that approach made the most sense. And up until now, it hadn’t been an issue.

  Which was why I felt so confused as I flew out of Redwood Bay to conduct some business in L.A., then Miami before returning to New York and, then, finally, seeing Caroline again on Saturday. That was the earliest I could get her to agree to. But the good news was that on Saturday I wouldn’t just see her, I’d see her as we flew to Fiji. I couldn’t stop thinking about that day. I’d never felt so distracted or impatient. Not by a woman, not by a business deal. Caroline got to me.