Waking Up with the Boss

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  The climax he gave her rocked her to the core. She shook and shuddered and gulped the steam that was rising.

  Jake stood up and tore into the condom wrapper. He put on the protection hastily and slammed into her.

  Carol was going to relive this encounter for the rest of her supposedly proper life. It would never fade into oblivion, not even in a million years. She memorized everything: the hammering motion, the pounding spray from the showerhead, the bar of soap that had fallen and was spinning around the drain.

  “I’ve got you where I want you,” he said, rasping the words, breathing heavily.

  “I’ve got you, too.” She raked her nails over every part of him she could reach, and he rewarded her with a rough groan, proving how much he liked it.

  They kissed in wild desperation. They even clanked their teeth, making frantic love, their hips thrusting to a powerful rhythm.

  Then he said, “I’m not usually a morning person.”

  She smiled, laughed, gazed at him through the thickness of the steam. “You could have fooled me.”

  He laughed, too, looking wild and boyish, yet warm and protective. He held her tighter, and she stopped clawing him, using her fingertips to soothe the places she’d scratched.

  They kissed again, only not quite so brutally this time.

  Somewhere in the middle of the mania was friendship. The knowledge, she supposed, that they shared a childhood bond. That they’d lost everything, and now they had one crazy weekend, wrapped up together in bouts of guilty pleasure.

  His release was strong and convulsive, and Carol absorbed the friction when he came, taking everything he was, everything about him, into her body. Until there was nothing left but the sound of running water.

  * * *

  After the shower, Carol and Jake ordered breakfast and had it delivered to Jake’s room. Carol was grateful that Lena had hired a staff that could be trusted, who wouldn’t sell tidbits to the tabloids or take unauthorized pictures.

  Of course, Jake wasn’t a big-time celebrity. His “Beefcake Bachelor” status wasn’t enough to make him a star. No one followed him around, the way they did Lena and some of her other guests. But thank goodness this weekend was private, either way.

  “Do you want to eat outside?” he asked.

  “Sure. Why not?” Carol thought it sounded nice and relaxing.

  He carried the tray onto the veranda, and they sat across from each other at a glass-topped table. She gazed out at the view. The pool area was vacant, almost eerily quiet.

  “I wonder if anyone else is even up yet,” he said.

  “Some of them are probably hungover from the party.” She cut into her eggs. She’d chosen poached, topped with cheese, tomatoes and pesto. “And the rest of them might just be lazing around like we are.”

  “Yeah.” He was eating a sausage and egg scramble. “We haven’t even gotten dressed yet.”

  She nodded. Both of them were in their robes, and her towel-dried hair was still slightly damp. She’d combed it straight down, though. He’d only run his fingers through his, barely taming his thick dark locks. But his unkempt look was a part of who he was.

  “So,” she said, still curious to know about his youthful rebellions, “what did you get caught doing when you were young?”

  He made a face. “I stole things. Mostly video games and DVDs and stuff like that. Sometimes I would nab a bottle of booze, just for the hell of it.” He frowned at his food. “But my biggest thrill was lifting trinkets for the girls I liked. I’d have them show me what they wanted, then I’d go back on my own to steal it. That’s what I got popped for. Taking this little diamond necklace from a department store.”

  She studied him in the balcony light, the way the shade played over his face. “The store pressed charges?”

  “Yep. I was arrested for shoplifting.”

  “And now you buy women pricey gifts to make amends for what you did?”

  He glanced up from his plate. “I never really thought about it that way, but I suppose I do.” He paused, fork in hand. “Or maybe it just makes me feel good, being able to afford to give them pretty things.”

  Like the jewelry he’d given her, she thought.

  “I started stealing about six months after my family died,” he said. “I was so freaked out in foster care I could barely stand it. I needed something that made me feel alive. That gave me a sense of purpose, even if I knew it was wrong. I was fifteen when I got busted, so it had been going on for a while before I got caught.”

  Carol questioned him further, piecing his past together in her mind. “Did Garrett and Max know what you were doing?”

  “Yes, but they didn’t say anything to me about it. They had enough problems of their own.”

  “What happened after you got arrested?”

  “I was put on probation. But I stopped stealing. Not because I got busted, but because my caseworker said that if I didn’t get my act together, I would be moved to a group home, where the setting would be much more restrictive. And I didn’t want to go someplace where I would be separated from Garrett and Max.”

  She sipped her orange juice. “So in a sense, they saved you? Just by being there?”

  “They definitely did. We had our heritage in common, too, which also helped us stay together. We were placed in Native American foster homes, and there weren’t all that many, compared to nonnative ones. The only way we were likely to be separated or never see each other again was if I screwed up and went to a group home.” Jake had a thoughtful expression. “Soon after that, Max came up with the idea for us to band together. To work toward becoming megarich someday.”

  Carol considered the situation. “Max came from a really poor environment, didn’t he?”

  “Poor. Abusive. The works. He had all kinds of motivation to want to be rich and respected. So did Garrett, with how badly he wanted to keep a roof over his mother’s head and keep her well. But me...? There was nothing I wanted, except my family back. But then I figured there was nothing wrong with having fancy houses and fast cars.” He looked directly across the table at her, flirtation alive in his eyes. “And beautiful women, of course.”

  Heat unfurled in her loins. “Yes, of course.”

  “Sex was always an outlet for me. I was fifteen the first time it happened.”

  “The same year you got caught shoplifting?”

  He nodded. “I was already sleeping with the girl I nabbed the necklace for. She was my first. What a rush that was, having a girl want me like that.”

  Carol wasn’t surprised that he was having sex at such a young age. She had waited until college, with her first serious boyfriend. “And you’ve had lots of lovers since.”

  “Being rich helps.”

  “Your money doesn’t matter to me,” she told him. “That’s not why I’m here with you.”

  “I know. But mostly women want to date me because I’m rich, even the ones who are trying to heal me. But you won’t try to do that because you’re already broken, too.”

  She didn’t know whether to be offended by his assessment of her or impressed that he knew enough to call himself broken. To combat her uncertainty, she said, “You and I aren’t going to be together long enough for me to try to do anything, except get through this weekend without those condoms running out.”

  He grinned and topped off his orange juice. “Touché, Miss Lawrence.” When she furrowed her brow, he stopped smiling, the abrupt change hardening his handsome features. “Come on, Carol. Don’t be upset because I said you were messed up, too.”

  “Did I say I was upset?”

  “No, but I can tell it bothered you.”

  She gazed out at the pool. It was still vacant, the water rippling on its own, the chaise longues and chairs empty. Suddenly the entire island seemed lonely, even the parts
she couldn’t see. “Your opinion of me is confusing.”

  “Why? Because you think that you’re handling being orphaned better than I am? No one gets by unscathed. No one,” he reiterated softy. “Not even you.”

  Seven

  Later that day, Carol and Jake gathered on the beach with Lena and Mark and a slew of other couples. Lena had suggested that everyone pitch in to build a sandcastle, which had morphed into a whimsical fortress, surrounded by sculptures of dragons and dolphins and mermaids. So far, the results were spectacular, but this was a creative crowd. Some of the attendees were set designers and special effects artists, and they were spearheading the project, offering help where it was needed.

  Jake and Carol were on one of the mermaid teams, sitting off by themselves, shaping the sand. Their mermaid wasn’t half-bad. In fact, she was rather pretty, with her curvy figure and flowing hair.

  Jake glanced up at Carol, but she averted her gaze. He was molding the mermaid’s breasts, and she was working on the tail, giving it texture. She was also thinking about what he’d said about her being broken. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t seem to forget his unsettling opinion of her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she replied.

  “You seem preoccupied.”

  “I’m just trying to focus on this.”

  “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

  She decided to come clean. Otherwise, it would keep affecting her mood. “Do you really think I’m messed up?”

  He stopped molding the mermaid and sat back on his haunches. “I didn’t mean it in an offensive way, Carol.”

  “Then how did you mean it?”

  “I was just saying how losing your family was as traumatic for you as it was for me.” He squinted at her, the sun shining in his eyes. “It’s unfortunate, too, that neither of us had any extended family who could take us in. Or I assume that you didn’t or you wouldn’t have been placed in the system.”

  “You’re right. There was no one. Both of my parents were raised by single moms, and they were gone by then. Well, actually, my dad’s mom was still around, but she had cancer and was too sick to step in and help. She died about a year later.” Carol sighed, pushing away the tightness in her chest. “I also had an uncle on my dad’s side, but he was a young man in the military, so he couldn’t raise me. He used to write me letters after my parents died, keeping a connection going, but then he was killed in Iraq.” Another death that had destroyed her all over again. “But I managed to get through it, just as I got through losing everyone else.”

  “How? By being overly good and proper? How is that any better than me running wild?”

  Irked by the comparison, she defended herself. “I’m not being overly good and proper now. I’m here with you, on this island, sharing your damned bed.”

  “My damned bed, huh?” he mimicked her, a slow and sexy smile spreading across his face. “Is this our first fight?”

  She rolled her eyes. She even smiled a little. It was silly to make a fuss over it. But that didn’t stop her from being caught up in the past. It didn’t stop Jake, either, apparently.

  He said, “I had Garrett and Max to help me through it. I had Garrett’s mom, too. But who did you have, Carol, especially after your uncle was gone?”

  She kept her response light, determined to stay strong, rather than dredge up all of that old pain. “Some of my foster parents were really nice people. Of course, some were indifferent, too. So mostly I just learned to do it on my own, to not rely too heavily on anyone else.”

  He wiped his hands on his swim trunks. “Yes, but how?”

  “By doing everything that I thought was right. By studying in school and getting good grades. By being respectful to my elders. By being as responsible as I could.” She stared straight at him. “I wanted to do the kinds of things that would make my parents proud. I wanted them to be looking down on me from heaven, saying, ‘Look how far she’s come.’”

  “That’s nice. Really, truly it is. But it sounds lonely, too. Didn’t you ever want to rebel? To scream and rage?”

  “No. Staying calm kept me sane.”

  “That would have made me crazy.”

  There were plenty of times that she’d cried herself to sleep. But she’d refused to take her grief out on the world, the way he had. “What’s the deal with your extended family? Why wasn’t there anyone who could raise you?”

  He returned to the mermaid, absently running his fingers over the areas he’d already shaped. “My dad was an only child, and his parents died before I was born, so that ruled them out.” He spoke slowly, as if he were plucking the memories from his mind. “My maternal grandfather was still around, though, and so was my mom’s sister. Grandpa lived in Ohio, where my mom was originally from, and my aunt was in Arizona, where she’d relocated years before. But at the time of the accident, she was going through a divorce, and the last thing she needed was another kid. She already had two little boys of her own and was struggling to raise them. One of them was a baby, three, maybe four months old, and the other one was a toddler, just barely out of diapers.”

  “What about your grandfather?”

  “He said that he couldn’t afford to accommodate me. Granted, he was just a working-class guy, but it was more than a money issue. He just didn’t want to get saddled with one of his grandkids. He’d already raised his daughters by himself.”

  “When your grandmother died?” she asked, curious about the rest of the story.

  A muscle ticked in Jake’s jaw. “She didn’t die. She left him for another man, abandoning him and their daughters when the girls were still pretty young. It tore everyone apart. Grandpa resented being left with the kids, and my mom and my aunt bore the brunt of his anger. They suffered from their mother leaving, too, of course. They were crushed by what she’d done.”

  “That’s awful.” Carol couldn’t fathom a woman walking out on her children.

  “Needless to say, they weren’t a tight-knit family. Even when my mom was still alive, Grandpa rarely came to see to us. We hardly ever visited him, either. He remained distant with my aunt and her kids, too. He didn’t help them when they needed it.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “He has Alzheimer’s, so he doesn’t remember any of this, anyway. He’s in a treatment center that looks after him. He’s too far gone to be on his own.”

  “Who pays for that?”

  “I do.”

  She figured as much. Jake didn’t seem like the type of person to turn his back on someone, even if they’d turned their back on him. “So your mom and your aunt weren’t close, either?”

  “No. But my mom made up for her upbringing with how loving she was with us. With me and my dad and my sisters,” he clarified.

  Carol knew what he meant. “How did your aunt react when your mom died?”

  “She was devastated, and guilty, I think, because they hadn’t kept in better touch. She apologized at the time for not being able to take me in. But I understood how bad things were for her. She could barely feed her own children.”

  “How is she now?”

  “She’s doing fine. I encouraged her to get a real estate license, and now she works for an associate of mine who flips houses in Arizona. I’m putting my cousins through college, too, so they’ll have a chance for a promising future, without being burdened by student loans.”

  Carol was still paying on her loans, but she had a good job and a generous boss who provided a discount on her rent. Without Jake, she wouldn’t be making it as easily as she was. “That’s nice of you.”

  “Thanks. My aunt appreciates everything I’ve done for her and her kids. But we haven’t bonded, not in a way that feels like blood.” He shrugged it off. “Maybe someday we will. But what matters most to me is my fo
ster brothers. They’re my true family.”

  Carol nodded. After hearing the whole story, she understood more about his loyalty to them.

  “I still can’t relate to how you handled being orphaned,” he said, bringing the discussion back to her.

  She took a moment to think about her response, to delve deeper into her history. “Being responsible is in my nature.” She couldn’t change that about herself, nor did she want to. “But being creative helped, too. I felt better when I learned to quilt. One of my foster mothers and her neighbors used to make quilts, and they showed me how to do it, too. The first one I worked on with them was a scrap quilt, made from fabrics they traded with one another. Some quilters collect scraps like trading cards.” She paused, then added, “But the main reason quilting became so therapeutic for me is when I started making them by myself I would choose fabrics that reminded me of my family. It was like piecing together my memories and keeping them alive.”

  Jake watched her work on the mermaid, almost as if he were imagining watching her sew. “Did you make a quilt that represented your hopes and dreams, too? Did you put fabrics together that embodied your future husband and the kids you were going to have?”

  Stunned by how spot-on he was, Carol met his gaze. He was keeping a close eye on her. So close it made her feel like a ladybug under a microscope. “What makes you think I did that?”

  “It just seems like something you would’ve done, with how you used to fantasize about your wedding.”

  “You’re right. I did make a quilt like that.” She wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. “I used a fancy white fabric to symbolize my dress. To showcase my kids, I used baby prints—pink teddy bears for a girl and blue dinosaurs for a boy.”

  “What about for your husband? What did you use to represent him?”

  “A shiny black tuxedo material.” She’d never really pictured what her groom would look like, other than that he would be dressed in formal wear. “I used a red rose pattern, too, because those are the flowers I envisioned in the ceremony.”