by Casey Hagen
God, the way he devoured her with his eyes! Here she was, just days after a broken engagement, on an altered honeymoon trip, and with a stranger, no less, and all she could think about was the way he looked at her. Though if she thought about it, he no longer felt like a stranger. Especially when he brushed a light kiss over her forehead and tucked her head back into the crook of his arm. The kiss left her more confused than ever.
Everett, with his kindness, his wit, and those heart-stopping smiles, erased the past several days of hell she’d suffered. It also went a long way toward making their flight tolerable. Not that the flight was perfect. Although she slept the majority of the flight, she had the misfortune of waking up while someone changed a loaded diaper, filling the cabin with a horrid odor. Then the guy next to her decided to take his shoes and socks off. If that wasn't enough, he pulled out a file and cleaned the fuzz gathered around the edges of his toenails and flicked them to the floor between them. Thank goodness Everett gave her room to snuggle him, putting precious space between her and his discard pile of filth. Ewww.
Yawning, she rubbed her gritty eyes with the heels of her hands and deemed herself ready for a shower. They waited for the majority of the plane to empty before exiting themselves. Tropical palms swayed in the breeze outside the plane windows. Corrine put on a thin sweatshirt before disembarking from the plane. Everett secured their bags over his shoulders before she managed to grab hers.
She shouldered her large pocketbook. "I can take that."
He smiled at her, revealing perfect white teeth and subtle dimples in his dark-blond-whiskered cheeks. She stumbled like an idiot, before bracing herself on his forearm.
"Easy," he warned roughly, causing her to shiver. Good Lord, she was losing her mind. "I've got the bag." With a hand to her lower back, he escorted her off the plane and through the terminal. Every brush of his fingers ignited delicious shivers. How could she possibly feel so much for a stranger in such a short amount of time? There was that word again, stranger. Was he really a stranger anymore? He certainly didn’t feel like it.
With their bags stowed in the trunk, their rental secured, and Everett at the wheel, they pulled out of the airport on Vanua Levu, the least populated of the two bigger islands making up the Fijian islands. She rolled down the window and breathed in the clean, fresh scent of sea air as they followed the coastline. Her hair flew every which way, and for once she didn't care. Maybe she wouldn't bother styling it at all for the week. Just let it flow free. Feeling freer than she had in years, she laughed.
"Did you want to stop and grab dinner somewhere?" Everett asked.
This was just what she needed after the nightmare and humiliation of the past week. Her mother had accused her of slinking off to lick her wounds. She stole a glance at Everett's profile, the strong, whiskered jaw, his solid, lean body, and his flexing right forearm as he navigated the winding island roads. Combined with his easy confidence and intelligence, he was an enticing package. One she couldn't ignore. She might have been licking her wounds then, but things had changed.
He caught her watching him and gave her a grin. The way his smile lit up those deep blue eyes made her stomach do somersaults.
"If you don't mind, I'd rather get settled in. The bungalow is stocked, so we can make sandwiches when we get there." The bungalow she’d secured was located on the northern tip. Just twenty minutes from the airport, it boasted breathtaking views with a private beach. Just what she needed.
"That's fine with me. I could use a shower. I think I still smell that diaper."
"Try having some grown-up Garbage Pail Kid tossing toe jam on your leg." With a quick glance at each other, they both started to laugh.
Ten minutes later they pulled down a dirt lane winding between lush tropical foliage. They wound through a series of short turns and pulled up to a structure that appeared to be little more than a hut with a thatched roof. Hoping the looks were deceiving, she found the lockbox on the side of the house after following the narrow path alongside it. Opening the door, she stepped into a cozy living area with gleaming wood floors, a plush cream-colored love seat and sofa combo, and a TV mounted on the wall across from it. She doubted they would even turn it on. Who watched TV in paradise?
"Wow…this place is great!"
"Absolutely beautiful!" she agreed. They wandered through a dining and kitchen area on the opposite side of the living room. The stainless steel appliances and marble counters gleamed under the glow of the soft recessed lights. A wall of windows and glass doors gave a full view of their private beach area, with a stone-cased hot tub and two hammocks suspended between trees.
"Come on. Let's check out the water!" Everett took her hand. They kicked off their shoes and ran to the crystal-clear water lapping the ivory sand. She could see everything. Every single thing under the water!
"Oh my, the colors!" She could feel the pull. Her fingers itched for her pencil and sketchbook. Gemstones in a wave of varying shades nestled in a fluid setting. The fixed stones would appear to be moving. Imagine what she could sketch with the tropical colors for inspiration.
"I'm never going to want to leave." Her stomach let out a loud rumble.
"Come on. Let's get you fed."
They made their way back to the bungalow, where Corrine searched the fridge for ingredients for sandwiches. "What's your preference? Roast beef, ham, or turkey?"
"Roast beef is good." He pocketed the keys. "I'm going to get the bags. I'll be right back."
"Oh, you don't need to grab mine! I can—"
Her breath lodged in her throat when he ran a light, seductive finger along the side of her cheek, smoothing a wayward strand of hair. At the sensation, she curled into his touch. She couldn’t help herself.
"I know you can, but it's not in my breeding to let you." He nodded toward the wine cooler. "Grab a glass of wine. I'll be back in a minute to join you."
"Okay," she whispered. Between his breakfast offerings, giving her first choice seat on the plane, holding her while she slept, the way he carried things for her, escorted her everywhere, and now unloading the luggage, he had done more to take care of her than all the men she’d dated in her life combined, then tripled.
She didn't know what to make of him. Every time she chided her rebel heart, he did something else to draw her in. What if this was all a contrived plan to win her over? What if he was just acting out of gratitude for her inviting him on a paid-in-full trip? How would she ever know the difference?
She pulled out the makings for roast beef sandwiches and got to work. She was almost through when he joined her in the kitchen. Washing his hands, he stared at the plate with greedy eyes.
"Go ahead and dig in. I'll grab forks for the salad."
He sat at the island, but didn't start eating until she did. Starving, they ate in a comfortable silence. The rich flavor of the thick roast beef between hearty slices of bread burst on her tongue. She moaned; she couldn’t help herself. She swallowed hard, almost choking, when she saw the hot look Everett turned on her. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be, Angel. Any man would love to hear that sound coming from a beautiful woman.”
Her cheeks went hot and she took another bite in an attempt to control her raging hormones. Before she knew it, they’d both finished their thick sandwiches, salads, and the dill pickles on the side.
Corrine leaned back, resting her hand on her full belly. "I'm ready for a shower now."
"Why don't you go ahead and I'll clean up."
"Thanks. Where did you put my suitcase?"
"It's by the entry. We never made it to the back of the bungalow."
Her heart lodged in her throat, and she felt the color drain from her face.
"What's wrong?"
"There's only one bed."
He shot her a heated look before his eyes slid away. A muscle flexed in his cheek. "I'll stay on the couch." He carried his plate to the sink.
She followed him into the kitchen. "I can't ask you to do that."
"Corrine, I'm not taking the bed on your vacation."
"But—"
His dark blue eyes flashed to hers. "I'm not." He took her hand. His voice low and rough, he said, "When I get in that bed, it'll be because you want me in it." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Go shower. Take your time."
5 A Dose of Humiliation
Everett spent a long few minutes staring at the bed before finding extra linens and pillows in the bedroom closet. It was a plush king with quality linens, thick blankets, and plenty of room for two heated bodies to roll around. He hoped before the week ended he would be in this bed with her. Not for the bed, but for the woman. His logical side screamed at him, telling him to keep things calm, keep from pressuring her. Just days ago, she was engaged to another man. Ready to walk down the aisle and pledge her life to him. His brain got it. His dick, not so much.
His body had remained in a continual state of heat since she brushed up against him on the plane. Every time he found control, something happened to stir him again. A brush of her hair on his chin. The way her arm tightened around his, in her sleep, when they hit turbulence. Later, when her hand fell from his chest into his lap. The best kind of torture.
He enjoyed her wit, her desire to be herself, and her determination to make the best of a bad situation. She made one powerful package. But there was a sadness there too. Maybe something to do with the influx of text messages causing her eyebrows to pinch together?
Not his business. With jerky movements, he tucked the flat sheet into the couch, much like his mother had taught him. He’d turned couches into beds many times over the years when family had visited. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, and countless cousins all packed in until it seemed like their modest home would burst at the seams. The older kids made up couches, and the younger ones crashed on the floor with sleeping bags.
He threw a light blanket and two pillows on the couch and declared his makeshift bed good enough. With the shower still running, he called home to check on his parents. He put the phone on speaker so he could go through his suitcase and prepare for his own shower.
"Hello, honey! You made it to Fiji, I take it?"
"I did. How are you and Dad?"
"Oh, honey, we're fine. Your dad is watching TV with Emily. I'm working on another blanket for Carol. Since my son isn't doing his part to give me more grandbabies."
Less than a minute on the phone and already she’d managed to chastise him for not having kids. The woman was diabolical. "Mom—"
"Everett, the shower is all yours—oh! Sorry." Corrine stopped when she noticed him on the phone.
But not before his mother heard her voice. "Oh, honey, did I hear a woman in the background?"
Shit.
"Yeah, Mom, but—"
"Who is she? Are you dating? Do you have a girlfriend I don't know about?"
"She's…" He glanced up to her. She mouthed an apology. She glowed with freshly scrubbed pink skin while rubbing her hair with a towel. Her trim legs were showcased in short yoga shorts, a tank top, and no bra. He cleared his throat "…a friend." He winked at her.
"What friend, honey? You didn't tell me about bringing a friend on your trip."
"I wasn't aware at thirty-three I still had to clear my friends with you," he said before he could think about how his words sounded.
Now, curled onto the love seat, Corrine choked on a sip of wine.
"Don't take that tone with me, young man."
"Mom, I’m sorry. I didn't mean—"
"You've always been a good boy."
“Mom, listen—"
"Well, other than the time you ordered three hundred dollars of porn on pay-per-view."
He winced. Now he and Corrine were even with the embarrassing stories. When he dared to meet her eyes, he found her with her mouth agape, eyes wide. Could a hole just open up and swallow him now. "Mom! Listen!"
"What?"
"You're on speaker. Say hello to Corrine Anderson. Corrine, meet my mother Barbara Harden."
"Oh, hello, sweetheart! I'm Everett's proud mama."
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Harden."
"None of that Mrs. Harden business. Call me Barbara. I insist. I apologize for the porn talk. I hope you won't think any less of my son. He was fourteen, after all, and fourteen-year-old boys have one hand in the fridge and the other in their underwear. My son was no diff—"
Everett scrambled for the end button, and for the first time ever in his life, he hung up on his mother. He braced his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands, and heard Corrine try to suppress a giggle.
"It wasn't that bad."
"How nice of you to lie to make me feel better, but we both know that was the equivalent of having your breasts out at the water park."
Her rich laugh soothed his frayed nerves. With waves curling around her face, her eyes dancing, and her painted toes adorned with tiny toe rings curled over the edge of the chair, she looked carefree for the first time since he’d met her. Even at Indigo—God was it just last night? Even then, she’d carried a tense edge about her. This woman with the glowing, dewy skin was happy. What kind of idiot cheated on her for a cheap lay with a nameless woman?
"I'm going to grab a shower now." He stood with the handful of clothes he’d chosen to sleep in.
"Oh, okay." She scrambled up. "I think I'm going to head to bed. You know—if you're all set out here."
He could see her uncertainty, and gave her a smile. "Go ahead. I'm going to crash for the night once I'm done." The soft skin of her shoulder caught his eye, and before he thought too much about it, he dipped his finger under the edge of the strap.
At her sharp intake of breath, her eyes met his. Locked in on one another, he took his time dragging his index finger over her shoulder and along the soft back of her arm to her wrist. Interlocking his fingers with hers, he leaned in and brushed his lips over her cheek. Not ready to let go, he nuzzled her with his nose, breathing in the warm, clean scent of vanilla and Corrine.
Rock hard, frustrated, and happier than he had been in years, Everett whispered in her ear, causing them both to shiver. "He was stupid to let you go, Corrine Anderson."
"Everett—" she whispered.
"But I'm so damned thankful he did." With one last slide of his lips, he headed for a cold shower.
Later that night, Everett lay in the dark quiet of the living room thinking about the next few days. He sent a text to his mom to apologize. He told her his battery had died, but she likely didn't believe it. He was more organized than that. Barbara Harden didn't miss a thing. He expected to have some explaining to do when he saw her next week.
And how would he explain? He’d finally met a woman he wanted more than anything or anyone else. In under twenty-four hours, she’d turned his life upside down. She had him dusting off old dreams he had believed to be so far out of reach that he’d tucked them where they couldn't tempt him anymore.
She wanted adventure. He would give her adventure. He would give her anything she wanted. He woke his phone and searched Fiji adventures. The island boasted a wealth of activities for every fitness level. They had open-air markets, shows, events, and food steeped in tradition.
He liked to be active. At home, he worked out, biked, and practiced martial arts. He enjoyed the fresh air. As he scrolled through, his eyes caught on a link for a Fiji Adventure Generator. Curious, he tapped the link. A screen filled with ocean views, and a text box opened up asking for their island location. He typed in Vanua Levu and clicked the button named Create My Adventure. The loading symbol spun for a few seconds before Fire Walking Show appeared across the screen. He clicked Create My Adventure again, and next to come up was White Water Rafting. A third time, Wind Surfing. Under each result was a list of locations on their island to enjoy the suggested adventure. Liking the idea of leaving every day to chance, he plugged in his phone, removed his glasses, and decided to share his find with Corrine over breakfast in the morning.
6 Slow Burn
She tossed
and turned most of the night and woke tangled in the flat sheet, with one corner of the fitted sheet popped off the bed. She could probably blame it on all the sleeping she did on the plane, but most likely this was Everett's fault. Systematically, the man had scrambled her defenses, turning her to a puddle of whimpering mush. The jerk!
He seemed so different from the night at Indigo, and unlike anyone she’d ever met. That night he was all honed focus and intense concentration, which was just as sexy as the relaxed, confident man who showed up at gate A12. The way he moved, the way he watched, the way he spoke—all signs of a man at ease with himself.
If only she had that same confidence. She couldn't even bring herself to show her own mother the jewelry designs she’d created for her personal line. She feared her mother would scoff and dismiss it as child's play. She would tell Corrine, again, to grow up and stop dreaming.
Everett's mother wouldn't stifle her son. Corrine had never met her in person, but instinctively she knew. She smiled, recalling Mrs. Harden's—Barbara's—words from last night. So Everett liked sex. Apparently, he liked sex a lot. Who didn't like an orgasm? Not that she remembered her last one with a man. She had been left to her own devices in the orgasm department for quite some time.
Everett liked to tease with lingering touches, long looks, and gentle brushes of his soft lips on her skin. He kept her in a constant state of arousal. He turned her on in ways Jordan never had, which raised the question, why did she agree to marry Jordan in the first place?
She wanted a life out from under her critical mother's thumb. She’d dreamed of having her own family and children. She wanted her kids to feel loved and supported, always. All things she’d missed from her own mother for so long. Jordan seemed like the missing piece to the dream, but looking back, he was nothing more than window dressing. A means to an end. She owed it to any future children she may be blessed with to pick a better father for them.
