Joshua

by Beatrice Sand

  “Be serious, please, don’t make me take that walk of shame toward the breakfast table.” Really, I’d sneak out of the backdoor and take a bus home if anyone in the house heard me moan in ecstasy.

  “Don’t worry, baby. These walls are as robust as they come. We made lots of noise in these rooms as kids, and they’re absolutely soundproof, I promise. Don’t hold back, Tess. I wanna hear you. Hear you fall apart underneath my hands.”

  “Then fuck me, Josh,” I say softly, holding my breath as he slides in all the way.

  He pulls back and plunges his whole length back in, rotates his hips, and pulls back again... over and over again, like a man on a mission. “Why did you sound like you were panicking?”

  I lift my heavy eyelids. He wants to chatter, now? “When?”

  “When you said to yourself you loved me. Be honest.”

  Panicking, really? I try to think back, but it’s not easy when someone’s moving in and out of you with long hard thrusts.

  “Say it, Tess! Why were you freaking out?”

  “No, I wasn’t freaking out, I was–” My eyeballs roll back into their sockets when he hits me with a violent stroke. “I was in state of amazement, Josh,” I say in a breathy moan, gripping his head and pressing my fingers into his skull. “Bewilderment.”

  He kisses me roughly, and his still rotating movements massage my throbbing clit. I feel an overload of senses, and way too soon, feel my body tremble and muscles contract. I can’t help but smile as I try to think of my name.

  I can’t.

  I simply can’t remember my given name, nor any of all my other names assigned to me at birth as waves of pleasure course through my body.

  “So you’re not taking back your words?” Josh asks the moment I’m able to focus on him again. I narrow my eyes. Why is he so obsessed with this, even with the tone of my voice?

  “Well?” he urges.

  “No,” I say with a weak voice as he vigorously and competently fucked the strength out of my body. “No, I’m not taking anything back.”

  He presses a long kiss to my forehead, then quickly pulls out of me, and puts me back on the slippery tiles. His hand slides around the back of my neck, forcing me to keep looking at him, but I have no desire to look anywhere else. His other hand reaches for his rigid manhood. “Look at me, Tess,” he rasps. “Look what you’re doing to me.”

  His eyes never waver from mine as he starts jerking himself.

  Hard.

  Fast.

  And I simply stare at him on wobbly legs, amazed at how erotic it is he lets me watch him. Por Díos, he’s breathtaking with his legs spread, those long, hard thighs, and the look on his face as if he’s in agony.

  “It’s so hot to watch you do that,” I utter in all honestly, and smile at him when he flashes me a tortured grin.

  “Teresa...” he gasps, and then, on a deep grunt, explodes right in front of me as he squeezes my neck and pulls me to him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  teresa

  “And behind the parlor we find the office space where John Sergeant would meet with his Indian visitors.”

  Josh’s arm lies casually draped around my shoulders as we follow our guide and all the other visitors of the museum through the narrow hallway from one fireplaced room to the next. His fingers play with a strand of my hair, and I’m not even sure he’s aware of it, since he’s paying attention to what the guide is telling us about the mission house.

  I gaze up at his handsome face and I love how lax he appears. A few lustrous curls show through his slouchy beanie, presenting an extra laid-back look. He’s totally in vogue with his ripped jeans and sturdy hiking boots. My belly clenches when I think of our intense encounter in the shower last night. Honestly, I thought my little romantic epiphany would send him running for the Berkshire hills. Foolish me.

  “Interesting stuff?” he inquires.

  “Absolutely,” I whisper. “Like a walk back in time with this collection of authentic furnishings. I wouldn’t have missed it.”

  He answers with a sweet kiss to my forehead.

  After a freezing tour through the snow-covered backyard, constructed as in colonial times, and the red barn where I soak up the history of the Mohican people, Josh treats me to lunch at a charming little restaurant down on Main Street. It’s Christmas Eve, and we both still need to do some Christmas shopping. Josh doesn’t want me to buy presents for his family, but I want to get something for his lovely aunts. Seriously, if they would try to make me feel more welcome than they already do, I might never leave again!

  “I’m in love with Stockbridge, Josh,” I say, smitten by our walk through the tiny town as I remove my scarf and beanie. “It’s such a picturesque town decorated with holiday wreaths and festive lights. There’s even caroling in the streets! This must be one of the most charming towns of New England. Thank you so much for taking me.”

  Josh looks at me with an amused expression on his face. “I like seeing this town through your eyes.”

  “I think you’ve grown accustomed to it.”

  He shrugs. “I think I didn’t want to see it since it brings back loads of memories. I used to walk these streets with my mother and sister around the holidays. And lots of mischief with Tristan and Mac. Those were the best days of my life,” he says slightly nostalgic. “After–” He lowers his eyes, pauses briefly, then looks up again. “After my mother left, I couldn’t handle Christmas here anymore. Constant reminders of the fact the holidays would never be the same as they once were with an incomplete family.”

  I place my hand on top of his. “I know what you mean, Josh,” I say softly. “I went through something similar. Holidays are the worst days of the year when you’re missing a loved one. It’s feels like missing a limb.”

  He gives me a rueful smile as he links our fingers. “I guess that makes us kindred spirits after all.”

  I can’t help but chuckle. “Let’s try being lovers and soulmates. I promise I won’t think less sexy of you if we’re friends too. Not after that shower,” I add softly.

  “Right,” he says a little shyly, then, “c’mon, let’s order.”

  I clear my throat. “Yeah, I believe I could use a beer.”

  Josh orders a classic burger and I settle for a pan-seared crab cake. We both decide on a lager since we’re on foot. How great is that? All this within walking distance?

  “To lovers and friends,” Josh says after our beers are delivered.

  “To lovers and friends,” I repeat, and take a healthy gulp.

  “I need to tell you something,” Josh says, putting his beer mug down.

  “That sounds alarming,” I reply with a frown.

  “I want to be honest with you.”

  I put down my beer glass, clueless on what to expect. “Then go ahead, Josh.”

  “We have a security detail because Mac and I are blackmailed, and we don’t know who they are.”

  I stare at him in terror. That was the last thing I expected.

  “What do they want?”

  “Money, of course.”

  “Do the police know?”

  He shakes his head. “No. We like to handle this sort of thing ourselves. If we’d go to the police it would only make things worse, and it probably would leak to the press. Anyway, I paid. Mac refuses.”

  “But... but what do they have on you? You’re an honest hardworking man, right?”

  He inhales deeply. “Believe me, the drama and secret scandals in my family could easily fill up a soap opera for years.”

  “It must be hard to be in the spotlight all the time.”

  “Yeah, it’s outrageous ever since my cousins were kidnapped. Then my mother’s suicide, the mystery about who my father is; the press is still having a field day.”

  “They bother you a lot?”

  He shrugs. “I guess it’s not that bad. They’re more after the others. They usually want to interview me about Suit 63, but some of them are sneaky, and before I realize it, I’m
talking about the kidnapping or what happened to my mother. They’re not crazy, they know there wasn’t a funeral.”

  “So, you don’t know either?” I ask, shocked.

  “No.”

  “Are you saying she could be...alive?”

  “The opinions of my family are divided, but my uncle and aunt are convinced she took her own life. And now I do too.” Josh shifts his weight, leans in. “My blackmailer sent me a note that could pass for my mother’s suicide note. If I didn’t pay up, he’d release it to the press.”

  “My God, how awful! Are you sure it’s real?”

  “Yeah. There’s just too much personal information in the note, as well as in the letter, no one could have known. Mac and I think the note was stolen from his dad’s office here in Stockbridge. Why Max never told me and Jaz about it remains a mystery for now. We don’t want to alarm the family. Mac told everyone we have security because a dissatisfied guest made a threat to the family.”

  “Jesus, Josh... I don’t know what to say. It’s so much pressure for you and Mac to solve this on your own.”

  “We have Reeves now,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “Maybe he can find something. He already investigated you.”

  I flinch. “Me?”

  “Don’t worry, Reeves cleared you. You’re not the seasoned criminal we’re looking for,” he says with a smirk on his face.

  “I’m...relieved, I guess.”

  Josh takes both my hands, turning serious again. “This is what I wanted to discuss with you, Tess. I think I can safely say we want to give it a serious try, right?”

  I nod, swallowing. Someone investigated me? “Right.”

  “Like I said before, we have a lot of unfinished business in our family. Tristan and Hannah’s kidnappers were never caught, my mother’s death was never solved, people think they can shake us down, and the paparazzi is constantly breathing down our necks. It’s not that we’re talking about those things all the time, especially not with the parents present, but it’s hanging over our heads like Damocles’ sword. And now they’re coming after Mac and me.”

  Josh squeezes my hands with force. “When you – and Felipe, mind me – get involved with me, you’ll get involved with all of that.”

  I study him with narrow eyes. “Are you trying to scare me off?”

  “No, but I want you to know what kind of family you’re getting yourself into if we take this to the next level. And believe me, I want to take it to the next level, because I’m in love with you, Tess. You’re the one I’m losing sleep over.”

  I gaze at him, blink, and take a moment to process his heated love declaration.

  “You’re all I see, baby.”

  “Same here,” I whisper.

  “If word gets out we’re an item, the media will come after you like a pack of hungry wolves. They’ll find out everything there’s to know about you and it will be widely reported in the tabloids.”

  “Still not running, Josh.”

  He keeps his eyes fixed on me without blinking. “Jaz and I were born in India in an ashram. My mother was a disciple, following a spiritual leader.”

  He’s testing me, and he’s right about the drama, but it’s only when I spot the grief in his eyes that I realize he still has an ugly, open wound about everything that happened in his past.

  Overwhelmed with emotions, I all but throw myself over the table and capture his mouth with my lips. A strong hand grips my head and keeps it there as I whisper back his own words from last night, “I’m right where I want to be, Josh. Nothing you do or say can change that.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  teresa

  Basking in the holiday afterglow, okay, guilty, and in all the sex slash lovemaking last week – I’m seriously sore, and needed a hot bath after Josh left this morning – I quickly jot down everything I need for tonight’s New Year’s Eve. It’ll be a huge colorful tapas feast, because if there’s one thing you can wake me up for at three in the morning, it’s a good tapas party.

  I’m really looking forward to tonight; a quiet night at Josh’s place with Emma and Ed. Of course, quiet doesn’t equal boredom, since the sangria will be flowing generously as though it’s happy hour.

  Smiling, I add strawberry, cherries, and peaches to my ongoing list of groceries.

  Oh, we’ll be so hungover in the morning; we’ll all need to call in sick.

  “That devilish grin makes me feel uncomfortable.”

  “Hey, Em! What’s up?” We’ll close the restaurant early today, so there’s no need for me to bake, and since it isn’t very busy today, Em can handle the restaurant by herself, which gives me time to focus on our little party tonight.

  “That means you’re not going to tell me what you were smiling about?”

  I gaze at my best friend forever, brooding, while tapping my pen on the counter. Emma is a partygoer, first and foremost, and I bet she has her share of tried-and-tested remedies in the aftermath of a night of stupid juice. “Do you happen to know a method to avoid a hangover? Preferably empirically tested. By you.”

  Smiling, she perches herself on a barstool across from me, then says dryly, “Yeah, limit your alcohol intake.”

  I shake my head. “Not going to happen.”

  “Well, then fatty food before and a couple of aspirins later will be your best bet.”

  Nodding, I write down a bottle of aspirin, just in case Josh ran out of supply. When I look up, I find myself staring at a picture of myself and Josh in the entertainment section of a local seacoast newspaper Emma is holding up.

  “What the...” I snatch the paper from her hands and study the black-and white picture more carefully. It was taken right after we left the cafe. We’re walking along Main Street, clutching hands, and staring at the sidewalk. I hardly recognize myself as the woolen beanie covers up most of my face. The headline in bold caps screams: “Joshua Vandenberg Leaves Restaurant With Mystery Woman.”

  “And so it begins,” I say softly, my eyes scanning the text.

  “Bad news for all the ladies. The good-looking thirty-year-old executive chef of Suite 63 was spotted holding hands with a beautiful brunette as they stepped out of an eatery in Stockbridge this Christmas. He’s the grandson of Maximilian Vandenberg, founder of the Vandenberg Hotels chain, and wealth inheritor of the family fortune.

  The Vandenberg’s were stalked with tragedy in the past. Sometime in 1997, Martha Vandenberg mysteriously disappeared, and it was later announced by the family that she took her own life. Tristan and Hannah were kidnapped for five weeks when they were teens in the Summer of 2006, and two years ago, their father, Florian Vandenberg, died of a heart attack. His older brother, Max, suffered two heart attacks and had to step down as CEO of the Vandenberg imperium, passing the title over to his oldest child, Mac, who is, along with his cousins Tristan and Joshua, amongst New England’s most eligible bachelors.

  It’s well known the family owns a vintage farmhouse in the Berkshires where they get together during the holidays, and it certainly looks like the Michelin star chef introduced this unknown woman to his family. Is romance finally blossoming for one of the Vandenberg cousins?

  “That’s awful,” I utter, appalled at all the dirt-digging and tabloid sleaziness. “Is nothing sacred anymore then? I mean, gossiping about the latest conquests of the Vandenberg boys and girls is one thing, but digging up every tragedy from the family’s past, that’s just cruel. Vicious.” I shove the paper out of my sight. “This has nothing to do with amusement anymore.”

  Emma gets up and tosses the paper in the trash. “Nope, they’re unscrupulous, and they’ll go to any lengths for a story. You better buckle up, sweetheart, because I think you’re in for a hell of a ride.”

  I sigh deeply. “Yeah, I know. Josh already warned me, or better, tried to scare me off, but I wouldn’t let him. I’m glad Felipe’s in Spain, or he would be in the picture as well.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I love him, Em, and I told him so. I want to b
e able to deal with this, not to make a big deal out of it. For him.”

  She pulls my hair playfully. “Good girl. He loves you back?”

  I twist my lips. “He’s in love with me, if that counts?”

  “What? He didn’t say it back?”

  “Well, in his defense, when I tried to take my words back, he wouldn’t have it. It’s like he needs me to love him.”

  “Hm-hm.”

  “And I didn’t really tell him. I was talking to myself, and he accidently overheard me.”

  “Okay, you’re officially the weirdest couple ever,” Emma says, holding up her hands. “I need to go back to the restaurant.”

  “We actually have clientele?”

  “We do. Seven people in the house, three of which are eating your signature dish.”

  I feel myself beaming with pride. “Excellent.”

  “Everything under control for tonight?”

  “Yeah, I was thinking of a nice tapas–” My voice drifts off when I hear the sound of an incoming call through Skype. My face lights up when I notice who it is.

  “I need to take this,” I say, wrapping up our conversation. “It’s Spain.”

  “Talk to you later, bye!”

  I wave her goodbye as I tap the video button. “Uncle Martín!” I call out when his image fills the screen. He reminds me so much of Dad, with thick eyebrows and kind smiling eyes. His dark beard is mingled with specks of gray, presenting him with a distinguished gentleman-look.

  “Hola, Teresa! How are you?”

  “I’m great! I was going to call you later today to wish you all a Happy New Year’s Eve, but you beat me to it.”

  “Aha, well, I’m alone at home right now, and wanted to talk to you in private if you have time.”

  The tone in his voice is slightly unsettling, causing me to feel a little disturbed. “Is everything okay with Felipe?”

  “Sí, Felipe is all right. He’s better than all right actually; it’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  A little more relaxed, but still vigilant when it comes to my younger brother, I stare at my uncle.

  “Felipe was going to tell you himself, but he asked me to talk to you first, so I could prepare you.”