“You’re right, we did, along with the unknown dreams I had of being a stripper.” He gave a nonchalant shrug. “But I’ve had a change of heart. I would’ve handed over my microphone if you didn’t laugh at my joke a second ago. Maybe there’s hope for this comedy thing after all.”
“Perhaps. The jury’s still out for deliberation, though.”
They laughed together. Once sobered, Elijah said, “I hope you don’t mind the company. I planned to order and take my food back to my room until I noticed you dining alone. Figured I would join you before one of the other patrons who’ve been staring at you tried.”
Tilting her head to the side, Melissa lifted a brow. “So, you thought I needed saving?”
He flashed her a dimpled smile. “Not at all. Remember, I know firsthand you’re more than capable of handling things yourself. My head is still spinning from the other day.”
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Hmm … maybe, but it depends.”
“On what?”
“On you. Are you going to spend the rest of our time here together reminding me how we agreed I should focus on my career as a surgeon when I crack a joke that doesn’t land?”
Our time? Together? The butterflies she’d tried desperately to keep at bay began dancing in her stomach again. Sure, last night Melissa had hoped she would see Elijah again, she even told him so, but what she hadn’t anticipated was Elijah wanting to spend time with her.
As if he could read her mind, Elijah smiled. “We didn’t get to make plans last night. You ran off like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight. Didn’t have the decency to leave a last name, a shoe, or a room number.”
Melissa chuckled. “Sorry about that.”
Elijah waved a hand. “No worries, I’m glad fate brought us together again.”
Before Melissa could respond, the waitress returned, accompanied by two uniformed men, with a silver rolling cart laden with covered plates. Several dishes were placed in front of them, and with flourish, the tops were taken off. “For you, Ms. Gaines, the Lobster Eggs Benedict, and for you, Dr. Grayson, the Stuffed Brioche French Toast. Enjoy.”
After they blessed their meals, Melissa forked up a piece of lobster and moaned low in her throat. Her eyes fluttered closed as she wiggled happily in her seat, enjoying the explosion of flavors over her taste buds. She opened her eyes and met Elijah’s penetrating stare.
“What?” Melissa diverted her attention back to her plate, tapped her foot beneath the table, and tried not to fidget.
“I’m wondering if it’s too late to change my order. Don’t get me wrong, this French toast is the best I’ve ever had, but your reaction to your food has me a bit jealous.”
“I can’t help it. This lobster is exceptional.” Cutting into her food, she forked up a large piece and offered it to Elijah. “Try some.”
Elijah raised an eyebrow, and an amused grin spread over his handsome face. His gaze lingered on her outstretched hand, then traveled to hers. At that moment, Melissa knew she was in trouble. It was too late to contemplate the ramifications of an act as intimate as feeding Elijah. Even if she hadn’t been rooted in her chair by the intensity in his dark brown eyes, Melissa had already offered him her food. What was supposed to do now? Snatch her fork back? Tell him to use his own utensils? She didn’t want to further embarrass herself in front of this man as she’d done each of the previous times they met. Before she could decide, Elijah took hold of her wrist, his eyes never leaving hers, and brought the fork to his mouth. A low groan slipped from his lips. The sensual sound flowed through her veins like molten lava, burning everything in its path to a crisp. He chewed slowly, drawing Melissa’s attention to his full mouth, and swallowed.
“You’re right. The lobster is fantastic. It’s tender, slightly sweet with the right amount of herbs added, but it didn’t make me dance. However,” Elijah paused, bringing his attention to her slightly parted lips, “I know what can.”
“Wh-What … what do you have a taste for?” Melissa snatched up the menu from the table and flipped it open. The last time she was this nervous about a guy and reduced to stuttering, was back in middle school when she admitted her feelings to her crush, a ninth grader.
“Something undoubtedly sweet, but with a kick to it. Rich. Decadent. Chocolatey. Something that’ll melt in my mouth the moment my tongue touches it.”
Her eyebrows drew together in confusion as she read the menu. “There aren’t any chocolate options for brunch, but lunch is starting soon. I’m sure we can find you something on the dessert menu.” When Elijah didn’t respond right away, Melissa glanced from the menu. “Elijah? Would you like me to call the waitress over?”
“No, because what I want right now can’t be found on any menu.”
“Oh.” She closed the menu, placed it back on the table, and focused her attention on her food, but her mind raced. What did he have a taste for? Her? Was he flirting? Had she imagined the suggestiveness of his words or the way his voice dipped into a husky whisper, an octave lower than his normal range? Melissa couldn’t believe for a second Elijah made a sexual innuendo toward her, especially one so bold. Men and relationships were a foreign subject to her. She could count on one hand the number of guys she’d dated and the sexual partners she’d had in her life. The amount would fail in comparison to the man sitting across from her. The knowledge put Melissa out of the realm of experience and so far out of her comfort zone, they weren’t even on the same island. Being around Elijah, experiencing his closeness, his warmth, and inhaling his enticing scent screwed with her sensibility and short-circuited her brain.
But the pure, unadulterated lust in his eyes spoke volumes. It didn’t lie.
Elijah definitely wasn’t craving food.
His dark, hooded eyes held Melissa’s with such intensity it unnerved her, before his gaze lowered and lingered on her mouth. Elijah drew the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, and for some reason Melissa couldn’t explain, she mimicked the action, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Mia appeared at the table to check on them and refill their drinks, breaking the sensual spell. She forced her attention back to her food.
“So, Melissa, tell me a little about yourself,” Elijah asked after a few minutes of companionable silence.
Melissa took a sip of her water, debating whether or not to open the bottle of champagne still on ice. If she planned to get through this meal unscathed, adding alcohol to the mixture wouldn’t be a good idea. “What would you like to know? I should probably warn you, I’m not really interesting.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“And why is that?”
His smile widened. “Because I’ve been unable to stop thinking about you. As a matter of fact, I knew the chances of us seeing one another again were slim to none, but that didn’t stop me from looking for you each time I left my room.”
Melissa glanced away to hide the smile on her lips at Elijah’s bold comment, and to stop herself from admitting she’d searched for him as well.
“When I noticed you by the pool yesterday, I took it as a sign. I started to come over to introduce myself and apologize for the incident in the lobby, but got pulled into a conversation.”
“With the COPAN board?”
Elijah nodded. “While a part of me feels indebted to them for choosing me to speak at this year’s conference, the entire time I thought about excuses I could use to leave them and come over to you.”
“Wow.” She shifted in her seat and folded her hands on the table to keep from fidgeting with the tablecloth. “Do you always say exactly what comes to your mind without regard to how it’ll be received?”
“I try to be as blunt and transparent as possible,” he said around a mouthful of food. “I was raised in a household where my parents encouraged open dialogue, something my mother didn’t have while growing up. I guess it stuck with me. It’s easier to be upfront and honest with someone compared to hiding feelings, which can often le
ad to things being misconstrued.”
“Yes, it does. I know from experience.” Melissa sighed. In the days following her break-up, Melissa wished her ex had come clean about his feelings, or lack thereof. If she’d known he wasn’t happy, Melissa would’ve gladly left him. Instead, he had an affair with someone Melissa once admired, embarrassed her in front of their colleagues, and disregarded her heart and the time she invested in their relationship, both personal and professional.
“Does it make you nervous when I tell you how I feel?” Elijah asked, breaking through the heavy quiet that descended on the table.
What kind of loaded question is that? Of course, it does, and so do you. However, Melissa knew better than to admit her thoughts to Elijah. So he’d changed her first impression of him. Maybe he wasn’t an arrogant asshole who thought he was God’s gift to women, but make no mistake about it, she still thought he had a big ego, and Melissa didn’t want to inflate it anymore. “Ummn … no. Why?”
“Because,” he said as he pushed his plate aside and leaned forward in his seat, “I don’t want to do or say anything that’ll make you uncomfortable, but the truth is I’m attracted to you, Melissa.”
Her breath hitched in her throat at his admission. You’d think Melissa could handle this level of straightforwardness since her best friend was also a straight shooter, but hearing Elijah admit his attraction to her did all sorts of wanton things to her body. The combination of his words, his velvety-smooth voice lowering to a seductive bass, and the darkening of his eyes threatened to engulf her where she sat. “Wh-Why?”
“Why?” Elijah laughed out loud as if she’d told the funniest joke known to mankind, but sobered at the unamused expression on her face. “Wait, you’re serious?”
Melissa folded her arms over her chest and pursed her lips together, awaiting Elijah’s response.
“I think you’re beautiful, feisty, and a bit of enigma. I’d like to figure out more during the rest of the week.” He dropped his gaze to the top of her breasts visible above the white tank top, then back up to her eyes. Had Melissa not noticed the hunger in his eyes or felt the tightening of her nipples beneath the weight of his stare, she would’ve sworn she imagined it.
“Look,” he scrubbed a hand down his face, “I don’t know what it is about you, but for the past three days and two nights, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. At first, my main goal was to apologize to you, but once I did, I realized it wouldn’t be enough. I want to learn what makes you tick. Where your accent comes from. How you’re shy one minute, then a Fourth of July fireworks show the next. I know you and your best friend are here for the conference, and I don’t want to interrupt your girls’ trip, but I do want to continue seeing you, Melissa. What do you say?” He stood from his seat and offered her his hand.
On one hand, Melissa didn’t trust herself to spend time with Elijah. He’d already gotten under her skin and made her body tremble with a need that stole her breath. It wouldn’t take much to give in to temptation. The right words, a prolonged gaze, lingering touch, and that sexy smirk Melissa couldn’t resist, and she’d find herself in a compromising position. On the other hand, Melissa couldn’t forget how during the wee hours of the morning, she’d scrutinized past conversations, interactions, and decisions she’d made in her life and was left with a bitter taste from the memories. Years of dodging confrontations, shying away from the spotlight, not wanting to upset the balance of her world, and hiding in the shadows had done nothing but hinder Melissa’s social development, making it hard for her to know how to act and react in certain situations. At the time, she believed she was protecting herself. From what, Melissa had no idea. But now she saw it for what it was; a waste of years she could never get back.
Maybe an abbreviated Freedom Tour was what she needed. Besides, if Melissa had to choose between exploring Chaud alone while Jayla was preoccupied with her island boo or having Elijah as her tour guide, her choice was simple. She’d go with the latter every time. Placing her smaller hand in his, Melissa stood from her chair and smiled. “Okay. Lead the way.”
Chapter Four
“You know, you never answered my question.”
“Which question?” Melissa asked as she and Elijah walked side-by-side through the historic cobblestone streets of Soblique, a charming town located in the province of St. Claire, on the east end of the island. Known for its rich history, stunning French architecture, picturesque ports, and inviting shops with handmade crafts, Soblique was a popular destination amongst history buffs. Even with tourists littering the sidewalks dipping in and out of shops and stopping at street vendors, bikes and motor scooters zipping through the streets, and the low hum of conversations piercing the air, it still felt small, intimate, and homey. “You asked a couple of them before we left the restaurant and on the ride over.”
Elijah stopped walking and smiled. “You’re right, and since you remembered I didn’t ask just one, I’m sure you remember them.”
Melissa couldn’t help but wonder how much information she should disclose about herself since she and Elijah would only spend the next four days together. Melissa had texted Jayla, hoping her best friend could offer her some advice since she was the MVP of casual hook-ups. Despite the whole ‘live outside of the box’ thing and the suggestion of having a fling being Jayla’s idea, Melissa’s messages were left unread. The romance novels or the romantic comedies she indulged in from time to time didn’t help her either.
Now, Melissa found herself unsure of what to say or do. The driver’s presence made it easy for Melissa to relax against the buttery soft leather seats without divulging anything too personal. During the forty-five-minute ride from the resort to Soblique, they chatted about mundane things such as the weather, the upcoming conference, and the island since it was the first time she’d visited Chaud. She’d watched the ever-changing scenery from thick, tropical flora and fauna alongside the winding roads to towering buildings with modern features on busy streets. Soon after, the bustling area transformed into a quaint area with its two-and-three-story brick homes and businesses with multi-level wraparound porches, pitched roofs, brick chimneys, and tall windows.
“And you said you weren’t interesting.”
“What?” Melissa asked, looking up at him. “I’m not.”
His lips curled into a lopsided grin. “Yet, it’s taken you almost two hours to tell me something about yourself.”
Melissa shook her head. “It has not been two hours.”
“Technically, it has, when you factor in the time that passed when I originally asked you this. You know, back at the restaurant?”
“Whatever.” Melissa smacked her teeth with feigned annoyance but smiled at their banter. Inhaling deeply, she filled her lungs with the unmistakable scent of the man next to her and willed her racing heart back to a steady pace. “I’m the youngest of two,” Melissa said after a slight hesitation. “My older brother, Markus, is four years older than me.”
“Okay, where are you from?”
“I was born and raised in New Orleans, graduated with a BSN from Tuskegee University, and received my MSN from Grambling.”
“New Orleans? I knew I detected some twang in your accent. I couldn’t place exactly where you were from but knew it was down south.”
“I do not have an accent,” Melissa replied in a thick, overexaggerated Southern drawl Dolly Parton would’ve been proud to hear.
A low rumble of laughter bubbled up from his throat. The throaty sound filled the air around them and set off an explosion of goosebumps racing down her arms.
“You do.” Elijah paused midstride and turned to face Melissa. “It’s adorable, but so is everything about you.” He took a step forward, bringing his hard body so close Melissa could feel the heat rolling off him in waves, yet to anyone passing by, the action looked innocent, like two friends chatting on the sidewalk. “Especially how shy you are.”
She averted her eyes to focus on the road, unable to withstand the intensi
ty swimming in his darkened orbs any longer. Why did he have to look at her this way?
Elijah placed a finger underneath her chin, forcing her eyes back to his. “I find it cute because no matter how hard you try, you can’t hide it. It’s there in the way you gnaw on your bottom lip or how your eyes dart around as if you’re looking for escape routes. It’s in the slight tremors of your hands and how your skin prickles when I’m near you.”
Melissa forced herself to focus on her breathing, despite feeling lightheaded by Elijah’s correctly-spoken observation. They hadn’t spent more than a few hours together, and yet this man—whose career depended on his ability to pay attention to even the most minuscule details—noticed something most men in her past never had, if ever, and damn if it didn’t make Melissa feel giddy. He ran the back of his hand down her arm to her wrist, lifted her hand, and placed a lingering kiss to her pulse point, causing her breath to stall in her lungs and electric currents to zip through her body, settling in the pit of her stomach and the area between her thighs. Melissa’s knees threatened to buckle.
“I would ask if I’m making you nervous right now, but your racing pulse is all the answer I need.” Elijah released his hold and they continued their leisurely stroll. “What led you to become a nurse? Specifically, a cardiac nurse?”
Thankful for the change in subject, because Melissa had no idea how to respond to his assessment, she answered, “Since childhood, I always knew I’d go into a career where I could make a difference and help people. My dream was to become an elementary school teacher with my focus on children between the ages of four and nine.”
“So, what changed?”
“I realized I could make a more significant impact as a nurse. Don’t get me wrong, I believe teachers who enjoy their jobs, are open-minded and have the patience to deal with this generation are severely needed. But wanting to become a nurse was more about the level of distrust the African American community has for the healthcare system. Too many times we’ve heard the horror stories of Black men and women going to the doctor only to be misdiagnosed or even sent home without receiving treatment, then later dying because of a doctor’s negligence. Most are afraid they won’t be heard, believed, or the doctors and nurses won’t act in their best interest.” Melissa sighed. “I know from experience.”
Her Forever Fling Page 5