Lust in Translation

by Jenna Bayley-Burke

  “You’re insane, aren’t you?” Xavier took up one of the stools as Jaime searched the cabinets for an apology. “That’s the real reason Trent saddled me with you.”

  “Look, I’m sorry.” Jaime decided to make it up to him a little. She put the kettle and a saucepan on the stove, blending condensed milk and regular milk in the pan.

  She had no right to be possessive of a man who wasn’t committed to her, hell, a man she doubted could commit to anything past Tuesday. She knew better. So why couldn’t her head get that message across to other parts of her body? His gaze was heavy on her, making her shoulders tense.

  Jaime turned to face him, trying to explain. “We don’t have time for you to have an affair with every woman we meet.”

  “You’re jealous.” Teasing thickened his accent.

  The words rang truer than she cared to admit. She had no right to be jealous. He was simply a ride, a guy she hooked up with once under otherworldly influences. She reached for the cinnamon and gave a healthy pinch of the spice to the pan.

  “You want me lonely for this whole trip because you’re jealous?” The corners of his mouth twitched, taunting her.

  “All the more reason to get to Oregon quickly, no?” She poured the boiling water from the kettle into the pot filled with coffee, letting it steep before she pushed the press down.

  “Is this some kind of joke? You want to blackmail me to get to Oregon faster by depriving me of sex? I had a higher opinion of you, Jaime Cruz. I didn’t think you were the kind of woman who resorted to manipulation to get what you wanted. I thought you were smarter than that.” He stood, pushing off the counter, and sauntered to the den. “It won’t work. I won’t travel with an extortionist.”

  Her chest tightened. She didn’t want him to continue without her, and it had nothing to do with being left here or having to make the rest of the trip by bus.

  She wasn’t ready to be at home, and she wasn’t done with him yet. She had no idea what she wanted from him, but she knew if she didn’t act fast, she’d never have the chance to find out.

  “Xavier, wait.” She turned off the stove and pushed the milk to the back burner. She found him in the den crouched by his bag, pulling clothes from it. “I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

  His narrow gaze bored through her. “You and reality don’t get along well, do you? That’s exactly what you are doing.”

  Her hand reached for him as he stood, but she pulled it back. “Listen, I know I was out of line. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to have to deal with you sleeping with her.”

  The hum of water from Carla’s shower shut off. Xavier cleared his throat and lowered his voice, switching to French. “Why would you think I want to sleep with her?”

  “Why wouldn’t you want to sleep with Carla?” Jaime whispered, not bothering to try and disguise her words. “You tried to have sex with me the first night we met.”

  The sound of a blow drier buzzed through the small apartment. “Because I liked you, J’aime. You intrigue me. If you weren’t interested, it wouldn’t matter. But since it matters to you…”

  Looking into Xavier’s green eyes spun the dial of her internal compass. Instead of replying, she turned on her heel and marched back to the kitchen.

  He was right. It mattered.

  She poured the coffee into the milk mixture, swirling the pan to combine before pouring it into one of Carla’s bowl-sized mugs. She felt him follow, the electricity between them making her aware of movements he made that she couldn’t see.

  A sprinkle of cinnamon finished the drink and she turned and slid it in front of him. “Café con leche.”

  He wrinkled his brow, inspecting the mug carefully. “Café au lait?”

  “Not exactly. You’ll like it though.” She turned back and poured a cup for herself. She leaned over her mug, letting the steam caress her skin and the aroma take her back to a place where she knew her own mind.

  “This is like drinking caramel, but not too sweet because of the coffee.”

  Jaime turned and smiled, glad her specialty had the desired effect. “You’ve been complaining about the coffee in the States for so long I thought I should make you something drinkable. Plus, it’s my way of apologizing for…you know.”

  “Making me gay.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t actually turn you gay.”

  “You tried.”

  She opened her mouth to snap back, but laughed instead. She liked him, simple as that. She kept her guard up because she could really like him and nothing could come of it.

  He’d be leaving after the wedding and she’d be starting a new life. She’d only had long-term relationships and didn’t have any idea how to do anything else.

  But Carla did. Carla dated without thinking about the future. She claimed she didn’t get heartbroken because she didn’t have expectations. If there ever was a time to have a fling, to enjoy herself in the moment instead of planning for the future, now was her chance.

  …

  “You certainly are a mysterious character.” Carla sat on the barstool next to Xavier, both of them enjoying a second mug of Jaime’s café con leche while she took her turn in the bathroom.

  Xavier ran a hand over his short hair, still slightly damp from his shower. “Everyone has a little mystery to them. Your accent for instance.”

  Carla leveled her gaze at him. “Cuban, but don’t change the subject. I’m not as nice as Jaime. Are you trying to get with her while you’re on the trip together?”

  He blinked, startled by her direct approach. “Jaime’s determined to break land speed records.”

  “I know. I’ve made the drive with her twice.” She set the mug on the counter. “She likes you, or else she wouldn’t have tried to scare me off your tail. But you’re going about her all wrong. She’s a very old-fashioned and a hopeless romantic. Feed into that and she’ll wind up falling for you instead of in bed with you. Show her a break from reality and she’ll indulge in everything she should have been doing the last decade. You need to play into that.”

  “Do I?” He set his empty mug down, leaning into the back of the stool and crossing his arms over his chest. This should be entertaining.

  “Jaime has this notion that she can’t have sex with someone she’s not in love with. It’s terribly outdated, I know. I think a few lust lessons from you could really improve her stash of seduction tricks, especially since you’ll disappear and she won’t have to face you again.”

  He wrinkled his nose at her judgment of Jaime. She needed no help from anyone in the seduction department. The woman had been a human icicle and burned him up.

  “Let her get to know you enough to make her feel comfortable, and she’ll go for this. She wants to, wants to do something rebellious and spontaneous before she has to play the good daughter back at home. But if you insist on staying this enigma and let sex seem recreational instead of adventurous, it’s never going to happen.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” He smiled, trying not to laugh. Only in America could he be an enigma. Anonymity never existed for the heir to Marie-Chloe in France. Though his mother, and now his sister, were the designers, the fashion house belonged to the Moreau family, and as the heir apparent, he was nearly stalked by gorgeous women. He didn’t sit next to someone in a café without it making the tabloids.

  “Maybe if you shake her up a bit it would help.” Carla clicked her acrylic fingernails against the countertop. “Take Route 66 to California, then head up Highway 101.”

  “Don’t encourage him,” Jaime said as she entered the room, taking Xavier’s breath away.

  Marie-Chloe circa, 2015. He couldn’t spot his sister’s designs anymore, but the red bandeau blouse with the empire waist and handkerchief hem had been Natalie’s opening statement. His sister had pushed their mother for a chance to get her own designs seen, and that top had ignited a trend, and earned Natalie a leading role on the design team. If not for that very blouse, Marie-Chloe would have crumbled when th
eir mother died.

  He took a deep, calming breath, trying not to react to seeing the blouse on Jaime. Natalie would appreciate the way she wore it over a simple white skirt. She designed for womanly figures like Jaime’s. That had been a point of contention for last year’s couture designs, the first to feature Natalie’s ideas.

  “Damn, girl.” Carla rose from the stool and crossed the tiny kitchen to place her mug in the sink. “My clothes look better on you than they ever did on me.”

  “Thanks for the loan.” Jaime stepped to Carla and wrapped the young woman in a hug. “And the place to stay. And for listening.”

  Carla pulled back, holding her friend at arm’s length. “I know how you can thank me.”

  Jaime shook her head and whispered, “Never going to happen.” Both women laughed, hugging again. “Do you want to come with us for bagels?”

  “Can’t. I have a date.” They stepped apart.

  “You do? You didn’t say anything.”

  “Nothing to tell yet. But if you call me later we can compare notes.” Carla nudged Jaime’s shoulder.

  “Oh, aren’t you funny.” Jaime lifted her now-bulging bag to her shoulder and turned to Xavier. “Ready?”

  He grabbed his own bag and followed her to the door. “How can I talk you into Route 66?”

  …

  The sun glinted down on Lake Michigan, the surface shining like diamonds. Wrapped in the warm caress of summer, Jaime strolled along the path with Xavier, seeing the lake as if for the first time. It had always been something she drove past with Carla on the way somewhere. Now it was an entity worth stopping to view.

  “Thank you,” he said, taking her arm and turning her towards him.

  “For what?” Goodness, he was handsome. Usually the way a man looked grew on her slowly, and though her attraction for Xavier hit full force, it continued to multiply exponentially. Soon she wouldn’t be able to resist his suggestions. And she was becoming okay with that.

  “The lobby of the Rookery building.”

  “Ah, yes, my surprise detour to honor your Frank Lloyd Wright obsession. It was on the way to Wisconsin. Thought I’d show you how that worked. You know, finding things on the way instead of going out of our way to pay homage to the man. Are you sure you’re not an architect?”

  “Positive. I couldn’t design my way out of a paper bag.” He turned to face the lake once more, a cool, gentle breeze easing the rising temperature.

  “I don’t know about that. You made short work of the bag of rugelach.” She’d only eaten two of the rolled cinnamon cookies.

  He shrugged. “It was a small bag and I haven’t had them in a couple years.”

  “Why not?” She nudged his shoulder with her own, grateful the awkwardness was past them.

  “Are you ready to hit the road?” He turned and walked down the path back to where they’d parked the car.

  Jaime blinked at his abrupt retreat. He did that every time she asked him anything the least bit personal. She still didn’t know what he did for a living. She knew nothing beyond his living in France and being Trent’s best friend thanks to them each living in each other’s homes as exchange students.

  She kept her feet planted, watching boats bob in the distance. He was the one in a hurry to get to Wisconsin. She’d already planned on losing the whole day.

  In the distance, she found an area of the vast lake free of anything and stared at the line where the water met the horizon until it blurred.

  The sight calmed her senses, transporting her back to the beaches of Mexico where she and her cousins would sit and watch the ocean. Safe and happy and eager for a world full of possibility. When had she started trying to control that?

  “Aren’t you coming?” Xavier played with the digital camera he was using to document his trip, the sun glinting off his short hair.

  “Not yet.” Jaime took a deep breath, working up her confidence. “All I know about you is your obsession with haunted houses and architecture, your disdain for bad coffee and your need for an interpreter to deal with a silk business. That’s it.”

  He grinned and snapped a picture. “That’s all you need to know.”

  “I want to know more. It might keep me from going crazy the next time you refuse to head west.”

  “I think you’ve crossed that line already.” His smile should come with a warning, but she couldn’t let it distract her.

  “That’s because I don’t know your reality, and you know mine. I’m not asking for your secrets, just the basics. What is it you do?”

  “Why? Does it matter?”

  She shook her head. “It’s strange, knowing so little about you.”

  “But you don’t want to know about me.” He stalked towards her, his hooded gaze darkening with every step until he stood far too close for comfort. “You just want to get home, right?”

  The challenge in his voice and gaze made her blink. She’d placed her bet and he’d called it.

  But was he bluffing?

  “If I don’t ask you anything about yourself, we can head straight back to Oregon? No more side trips to ponder architecture?”

  “We have three weeks until the wedding. I can get you home and still have time to look around a country you are content to ignore.”

  What she was content to ignore was his jab. The sooner she was free of the temptation he offered, the better they’d both be. She’d made such a mess of her last relationship and she knew rebounding now would only make her feel worse in the end.

  Jaime plastered on her best smile and squared her shoulders. “Let’s get on the road then. With your new and improved attitude I think we can make it at least to Nebraska today. Then we can either stop for the night or change drivers and push on to Wyoming.”

  Chapter Six

  “We have to eat.” Xavier left the top down on the convertible as he unfolded himself from the seat.

  “Yes, but do we need to eat in 1850?” Jaime studied the signs in the parking lot as she adjusted her headband, trying to smooth the wayward strands as best she could without being too obvious about it. The wind had done a number on her hair, but the whir of the highway had kept Xavier from talking and trying to get out of his promise to drive straight home.

  “You can’t whine. This is on the way. The highway cuts the Living History Farm in half.” With an irritated shake of his head, he slung his camera bag over his shoulder and then walked towards the Welcome Center without her.

  Great. Just great. Not only did he pull them off the road and into a time warp, but he was still in a snit about something he’d agreed to. Truly, the sooner they got home and were out of one another’s company, the better.

  Even in her flip-flops and having to navigate her way through the throng of families crossing the gravel lot towards the entrance, she caught up with him just as he paid for their admission. He handed her a map as if he expected her to be right by his side.

  “How long can we stay before you start to complain?” he teased, unfolding his map as he walked towards an authentic prairie gothic church. “Wait, you already complained.”

  “Oh, you are a laugh riot.” She paused at the church, catching his arm as they came upon the scene. A couple in period dress stood before a minister and a handful of others who also looked like they’d just stepped out of a history book. “I think it’s a wedding,” she whispered.

  “Tin wedding,” he whispered back, pointing to a few lines on the back of the map. “They hold them twice a day to show how couples celebrated their tenth anniversary.”

  “How romantic is that?” Her heart gave a little squeeze and she brought her hand to her chest.

  The minister finished speaking and the people surrounding the couple applauded. After a chaste kiss, they were given tin cups and trinkets.

  “I don’t know. Allison seems to be in love with her silver service. I don’t know that tin would cut it with her.”

  Jaime shook her head, not wanting to admit he was right. Her sister had put as much e
ffort into her bridal registry as she had the seating chart for the reception. Jaime wondered where Xavier would be sitting, and quickly tossed the thought away. It didn’t matter.

  “They have fresh ice cream in 1850, but we have to head to 1900 to see the baked goods.” He looked up from the map, smiling like a kid on the first day of summer vacation.

  She looked at him incredulously, wondering if he realized the method in his madness. It might shock him to know he wasn’t as free-spirited and spontaneous as he assumed. She’d begun to notice he was as efficient as possible in his amusements. They weren’t even halfway to Oregon and they’d taken in more activities than she would have dared plan into an entire trip.

  “Okay. By your expression I can see we’re only going as far back as the farmhouse. The pioneer log home is out.”

  With a laugh, Jaime shook her head. “I’ll make you a deal.”

  He groaned. “I don’t make out well on your deals.”

  She tried to keep her smile from looking too self-satisfied. “We’ll stay as long as you want and go as far back in time as you desire if, and here’s the catch, I can drive through the night.”

  His green eyes widened. “You want to drive through Nebraska in the dark? You don’t want to see any of it?”

  “Seen it, smelled it, and trust me when I say it looks just like Iowa and Wyoming. You won’t miss a thing except the smell of cow mixed with summer heat.” She pulled a face to punctuate her point.

  “You’ll do everything without complaining?”

  She nodded, afraid of what everything entailed, but still giddy at her bargain.

  “Have you ever milked a cow?” Xavier didn’t wait for her answer, just marched off the church lawn and into 1870.

  …

  Women were not meant to be understood. Especially American women. When Jaime had insisted on changing into her pajamas before they got back on the road, he’d swallowed a groan at the idea of having to pretend he wasn’t turned on by her tank top and panties while she drove his stick shift into the semi-darkness. While she changed, he put the top up on the car and then looked through the list in the journal. It felt funny, finishing a to-do list someone else wrote for you, but he was glad to be crossing so much of it off.