Sinful Paradise (Kimani Hotties)

by Christopher, Ann

  Defiant to the soles of her feet, Gloria glared at him, her chin hitched up.

  And then, quite suddenly, she fell apart.

  With a shrill cry...a choked sob...a twisted, ruined face...she lashed out at him, planting both palms on his chest and pushing so hard he staggered back several steps.

  “You can’t do this to me!” she shrieked. “Why can’t you see that I ruin things? I don’t want to ruin you!”

  “Gloria.” Alarmed, he reached for her. “It’s okay—”

  “It’s not okay!” She was sobbing now, barely able to get the words out. “You have to leave. You have to leave, Cooper!”

  “I’m not leaving you!”

  Another shove, harder this time. “Go! You think I want you to see me falling apart like this? Leave!”

  Hiccupping herself into silence, this proud, stubborn woman crossed her arms over her chest and took a shuddering breath. How she managed it, he had no idea, but when she spoke again, her voice was hoarse but calm.

  “Please, Cooper.” Crossing to the door, she opened it for him and waited.

  He stood there, paralyzed with fear and unable to make his feet move out of the apartment. If he left, how would he ever get back in again? But on the other hand, this wasn’t only about what he needed. Right now Gloria needed space, and he was, and always would be, all about giving her what she needed.

  So, doing his best impersonation of a full-grown man rather than the primitive mass of emptiness and fear he felt like, he followed her but lingered on the threshold.

  “Look at me.” His voice was husky. Urgent.

  Nostrils flaring, she pointedly turned her head in the other direction and refused to meet his gaze.

  This rejection was like another piece of his heart sliced off and mashed beneath her foot. Swallowing the tight knot in his throat, he plowed ahead.

  “Send me away,” he said, shrugging. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here.” He touched a finger to her temple. She flinched. “And I’m here,” he continued, touching her chest and feeling, for one quick second, the runaway thump of her heart. “And we both know it. Don’t we?”

  At that, her gaze flickered back to him, vulnerable and raw.

  He wanted to stay.

  The hardest thing he ever did was turn and walk away.

  Chapter 12

  Three Months Later

  Gloria stared at herself in the full-length mirror at the bridal boutique, seeing nothing. All her energy was tied up with her thoughts, which swirled and fluttered like fall leaves before a storm, resisting all her efforts to rake them into a manageable pile.

  This was it. Zero hour.

  After months of planning and anticipation, Talia and Tony’s wedding weekend had arrived.

  Cooper would be there this weekend, of course; the chances of him missing his cousin Tony’s wedding were nonexistent. So she’d see him as early as tomorrow, depending on which flight he’d booked.

  Hell, for all she knew, they’d be sitting next to each other for the long flight to Bora-Bora, and wouldn’t that be fun? Not. It would be awkward. Uncomfortable. Excruciating.

  They hadn’t laid eyes on each other since the day she fell apart and kicked him out. A day that had the distinction of being the very worst day of her life, other than the days her parents had died.

  The worst non-death day of her life.

  He’d called and texted; she’d evaded.

  Would he bring someone? Yeah, he probably would, because what red-blooded male wanted to spend a long weekend in a lush tropical paradise without a warm female body? What would she do if he did bring someone? Collapse in a sobbing heap on the beach? Faint? Die? No, she thought grimly. Her pride had been gravely wounded, but it wasn’t gone. No. If and when she saw Cooper or his new squeeze this weekend, she planned to play it cool and collected.

  Oh, Cooper, hi, she’d say. Or, Cooper! It’s great to see you again.

  Something breezy and nonchalant.

  Something that hid the fact that she’d turned into a zombie—all walking shell, with little to no humanity left on the inside—in the months since she’d last seen him.

  “Oh, Gloria,” sighed an exasperated voice. “Will you please eat a cookie? What the hell are you doing to yourself?”

  Gloria snapped out of her thoughts.

  “What?” she asked vaguely, looking around. “What is it—? Oh, Tally, you look gorgeous!”

  Talia, who stood on the platform next to Gloria’s in the fitting room at the high-end bridal boutique where Talia had found her gown, had her arms crossed and was glowering at Gloria but otherwise looked amazing. She’d chosen an ivory chiffon Grecian goddess gown that draped over one shoulder and was so light and airy she’d probably float down to the beachfront chapel without her feet ever touching the ground. The sheer veil had floral lace trim and, because Talia was an artist who never did anything without a pop of color, her sash, sandals and decorative comb were all in a vivid shade of blue-green called Pacific Paradise.

  Gloria was speechless. If there’d ever been a more beautiful bride than Talia or a bride more deserving of a perfect wedding day in the perfect setting, she couldn’t think who.

  “Oh, Tally.” Gloria pressed a hand to her heart and gave herself a stern warning to stop cooing before she teared up and started dripping black mascara, an offense that would probably warrant banishment from the pristine elegance of this designer boutique. “I’m so happy for you. I can’t believe you’re getting married in three days. What happened to my annoying baby sister?”

  “Funny you should say that.” Talia’s frown deepened, grooving down her forehead and between her eyes. “I’m wondering what’s happening to you! You’re wasting away! You get thinner every time I see you, so don’t bother denying it again.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gloria lied.

  “Look at you,” Talia said, flapping a hand at the angled mirrors ringing the platforms. “You’re down a good ten pounds. Maybe fifteen. I’m not blind.”

  The two salon owners, also sisters, nodded with grim agreement. One knelt at Talia’s feet and fussed with her hem, and the other frowned as she stood behind Gloria and tugged at the loose bodice of her maid-of-honor dress, a knee-length chiffon halter number, also in Pacific Paradise. They’d taken a special interest in Talia’s wedding when they heard about her battle with Hodgkin’s disease, and they’d all become very friendly.

  “This hangs on you like you got it from a Liz Taylor yard sale, Gloria,” said the younger co-owner, Becky, darkly. “Why not just wear a sheet and be done with it? Why bother with this?” She flapped a hand to indicate the overpriced salon in all its glittering, chandelier-lit glory.

  “Excuse me.” Gloria stepped away from Becky’s grasping hands and tried to adjust the cups over her now-nonexistent bosom. When that effort failed, she put her hands on her hips and worked on looking dignified. “But since when is being thin a problem for you fashion folks here on Madison Avenue?”

  “Since your scrawny little shoulders are the only thing keeping the gown from sliding to the floor in a wrinkled heap,” said the other owner, Helga, heaving herself to her feet and coming over to join Becky as they fidgeted with Gloria’s dress. “You’re not sick, too, are you? Because Talia’s the picture of health now that she’s finished with her treatments, and you, meanwhile, look terrible. Are you sick? You’re sick, aren’t you?”

  “No,” Gloria said shortly.

  Becky and Helga stared at Gloria in the mirror, one over each shoulder, and shook their heads with disapproving concern. And then a lightbulb seemed to go off over Helga’s head.

  “Man trouble.” She nodded wisely. “That’s what it is. You’ve got a broken heart. You’re sick with it.”

  “I am not—”

  “Trust me.” Ano
ther nod from Helga. “I know a broken heart from sick. Not to worry, though. I know someone. You’ll love him. It won’t be perfect, mind you. He’s not black, but at your age? I wouldn’t be too picky.”

  This was their fourth trip to the salon for shopping and fittings, so Gloria had gotten used to liberal doses of free advice, which usually ran to topics like where to find the freshest seafood and which Broadway shows everyone must see before they died. But this was too much, even from Helga.

  Irritated, Gloria caught Talia’s eye in the mirror before stepping out of her teetering heels and climbing down from the platform. Then she stalked over to the seating area, plopped down on the silk sofa and took a healthy sip of champagne from her fizzing flute.

  “Is this why the dresses are so expensive? Buy a dress and you get matchmaking advice and a beaded bag to go with?”

  “Calm down, Glo,” said Talia, always the peacemaker.

  Helga, meanwhile, was also getting a little huffy. “Well, pardon me for noticing how pale you are,” she said. “Pardon me for wondering if you’re coming down with something with bags like that under your eyes. I’ll never mention it again. We won’t speak of it.”

  “Great,” said Gloria, finishing the rest of her champagne.

  “Even though I’ve married off four daughters,” Helga continued, pouting now. “Even though three of them married doctors. Forget it. What do I know?”

  “Four and a half,” corrected Becky. “Because you introduced my Julie to her husband.”

  “Yeah, but they got divorced.” Helga paused. “So we’ll call it four and a quarter. Anyway. No matter.” Lobbing a final glare at Gloria, she turned her attention back to the bride. “Talia, your dress is ready now. We’ll get it packed up for the flight. Gloria, Becky will have to take yours in again, so you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

  “Fine.” Gloria, who had by now grabbed the champagne bottle from the bucket, topped off her glass and drunk it down again, was just buzzed enough to start blabbing. “If you must know, I had an affair with a married man. And then I had a rough breakup, and I’m having a tough time getting over it. I haven’t been that hungry. So I’ve lost a little weight. The end.”

  “See?” asked Helga. “Was that so hard?”

  Repressing a snort, Gloria planted her elbow on the back of the sofa and rested her chin on her hand. Then she decided more liquid courage would make this conversation go down a whole lot easier.

  “Well, there you go.” Helga wagged a finger at Gloria. “You should be counting your lucky stars that cheating son of a bitch is out of your life. He’d have a new mistress before the ink was dry on your marriage license. You’d never know a moment’s peace without wondering—”

  “Not him!” Gloria was in the process of refilling her glass when Talia stomped over, snatched the bottle from her and plopped it back into the bucket with a swish of ice water. Gloria gave her a sharp smack on the butt. “I was dating someone new.”

  “Oh?” Helga asked, brows raised.

  “But it didn’t work out.”

  “Why?” asked Becky.

  “Yes, Glo.” Talia poured herself a glass of champagne, sat next to Gloria on the sofa and fixed her with a gaze that was unrelenting and disapproving. “Tell us all why you can’t be with Cooper, a good man who was crazy about you and good for you. Tell us why you’re insisting on martyrdom—”

  Gloria couldn’t believe her ears. “Martyrdom?”

  “—even though you’ve been doing all sorts of good deeds, like donating your time to the clinic that treats kids with cleft palates—”

  “Nice,” said Becky, exchanging approving nods with Helga.

  “—and sending an apology letter to Aaron’s wife.”

  “Did she read it?” Helga asked, wide-eyed.

  “I don’t know,” Gloria admitted.

  “The point is, Glo, that there’s nothing more you can possibly do to make up for the past,” Talia concluded. “So, please. Tell us why you can’t be with Cooper. And go slowly and use small words so I’ll understand this time.”

  “This is why I never tell you anything,” Gloria snapped. “You judge me. You’re always judging me. You judged me for staying with Aaron, and now you’re judging me for breaking up with Cooper. There’s no pleasing you.”

  “Oh, bullshit,” said Talia. “Don’t you dare—”

  “Ladies, please.” Becky clapped her hands. “No swearing around the gowns. They’re sensitive. We don’t want them to absorb negative energy.”

  Gloria and Talia shot guilty looks at the rows of gorgeous gowns.

  “Sorry,” Talia muttered.

  “In fact, bride-to-be, you take that dress off right now before you wrinkle it or dribble champagne on it,” Becky commanded.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Talia said meekly, putting down her glass and scurrying behind the dressing screen to change.

  “And you two argue on your own time.” Helga slung her tape measure around her neck, helped herself to Talia’s glass and perched on the sofa’s arm. “Right now I’m trying to understand the situation. You say he was a good man?”

  “Yes,” Gloria admitted.

  “Handsome? With a job? A good job?” Helga went on.

  “Yes,” said Gloria.

  “Kind to women and small animals? Not gay?”

  “Correct.”

  “What about his mother?” Helga seemed to be holding her breath as she waited for the answer to this most important question. “Is he a good son? Does he take good care of his mother?”

  “Yes,” Gloria said.

  Helga clapped a hand to her forehead. “Well, it’s like you found a live unicorn prancing around in Grand Central Terminal!” she cried. “What’s the problem, for crying out loud?”

  Gloria dropped her gaze the way she always did when this shameful episode came up. Then, in a valiant effort at laying all her cards on the table, she opened her mouth but discovered at the very last second that she couldn’t get the words out. It sounded so overwrought to say that she wasn’t good enough for Cooper or that he deserved a woman who hadn’t left such a destructive trail behind her. In the end, all she could do was shut her mouth again, cross her legs and arms and wish she could disappear.

  “Is it because you’re afraid to tell him about your...indiscretion?” Becky asked.

  “He already knows.”

  “So I repeat, what’s the problem?” Helga interjected.

  When Gloria floundered again, Talia reappeared, now dressed in her street clothes. “It’s because she thinks she’s not good enough for him,” she said, resuming her seat and giving Gloria’s shoulder a supportive squeeze. “Our father really screwed with her head. He was a doctor, too.”

  “Wait, what?” Gloria twisted to stare at Talia. “What’re you talking about? What’s Daddy got to do with this?”

  Talia scowled at her. “We’ve talked about this before, Glo.”

  Gloria blinked, feeling as though her head had been clanged between a pair of cymbals. “We’ve never talked about Daddy and Cooper—”

  “Maybe not,” Talia said, shrugging, “but we’ve talked about how everything you do is a reaction to him walking out on the family.”

  “Oh,” said Becky, nodding sagely. “I understand now.”

  “Well, I don’t understand,” Gloria told them all before focusing on Talia. “We’ve talked about how I’m an overachieving type-A doctor and that’s probably a result of me trying to be a good kid so Daddy would come back home. So what? Big deal. That’s the story of every divorce.”

  “You became a doctor because Daddy was a doctor,” Talia told her. “And then you married the wrong man—one of your med school instructors, also a doctor—because of Daddy.”

  “I did not...” Gloria began, trailing off when the truth be
gan to pierce the outer layer of her bravado. She hardly ever thought about her ex-husband anymore. Could Talia be right?

  “Let me guess,” Helga said. “Older man? Looked like your father?”

  Talia pointed to Helga with one finger and touched the tip of her own nose with the other.

  They all turned their heads to stare at Gloria.

  Gloria got to her feet and paced away from the sofa, suddenly fidgety. Why was it so hot in here?

  “Every man you’ve ever dated is similar to Daddy in some way, Glo. Either looks or personality. Except for Cooper.”

  “And the married man?” Becky asked eagerly. “How was he similar?”

  “He was a cheater,” Talia explained. “Just like our father. I’ve tried to tell her. I think she’s in denial.”

  Helga and Becky both nodded and murmured a chorus of agreement that made Gloria feel as though she was the screwed-up guest being analyzed by a panel of experts on a TV shrink’s show.

  “And daughters of cheaters often turn into the other women,” Helga said. “Everybody knows that. It’s a pattern. You don’t want to be the victim like your mother was, so you turn into the perpetrator instead.” She waved an airy hand. “Classic situation.”

  “I know,” Talia said sadly. “And she never even gave Cooper a real chance.”

  Gloria, who’d now paced her way to the farthest corner of the seating area, frowned and stared at the fringed rug beneath her bare feet. Her brain was so full of explosive new ideas it felt as if it might blow off her head at any second.

  Maybe she had been in denial all this time.

  Talia’s analysis had never made this much sense before. Or maybe Gloria had never been ready to listen before.

  “This Cooper,” Helga said. “He sounds like a good guy, eh, Gloria?”

  Gloria was filled with a sudden ache of longing for him so powerful she couldn’t answer.

  “Gloria?” Helga raised her voice and snapped her fingers several times. “Stop daydreaming and get back over here. We’re talking to you.”

  “Leave her alone,” Talia said firmly. “She needs a minute to think and remember what I always tell her.”