by Lori Wilde
He couldn’t believe he actually had her all to himself. No friends or co-workers around. No Muffin or Miss Abercrombie to interrupt.
For the next day and a half they would be alone together. They were staying at a turn-of-the-century Victorian style bed-and-breakfast on The Strand and even though they had separate rooms, there was an adjoining door.
Things were going so right he scarcely dared admit it. One false move could upset the delicate balance. He had to tread lightly while at the same time doing everything in his power to win her heart.
His hopes soared. He had the evening planned to the tiniest detail. An extravagant candlelight dinner at Guido’s, a moonlight jaunt across the ferry, a horse-drawn carriage ride back to their bed-and-breakfast. He’d already arranged with the inn owner to have rose petals sprinkled across CeeCee’s bed, a bottle of champagne on ice, and a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries. The whole thing had cost him a mint, but it didn’t matter.
Nothing was too good for his CeeCee.
“Oh, look, Zack, a po’boy stand.” She stopped beside a six-by-six-foot wooden hut, dispensing fried shrimp poor boy sandwiches and greasy curly fries. “I haven’t had one of those since I was a kid and my third stepfather Ernie used to bring us here. Can we get one?”
“But what about dinner?”
She waved a hand. “Who wants to sit in some stuffy old restaurant when we can plunk down right here on the seawall and have a shrimp po’boy with lots of tartar sauce.”
“We’ve got reservations.” He glanced at his watch.
“Goodness,” she said. “If you’re that set on the restaurant then okay, but I gotta tell you, you’re acting a whole lot like your brother and not a bit like the Wild Motorcycle Man.”
“Am I?” he murmured.
“Oh, you know Jack. He plans everything to the nth degree. Not that it’s bad, mind you, but he’s not very spontaneous.” She lowered her voice as if revealing a secret. “Like he’d never blow off dinner reservations for a curbside po’boy.”
“Shrimp po’boy it is,” Jack said firmly, her comment stinging a little. Did she really consider him that dull? But when CeeCee leaned into him, her breasts crushed against his chest, he forgot about everything except pleasing her.
Remember, lunkhead, act like Zack.
He stepped up to the vendor and ordered two sandwiches to go.
“Get us some fries and a couple of root beers, too,” CeeCee said. “No wait. Just get one big root beer with two straws. We can share.”
After he’d paid for the order, CeeCee took the bag from him, pulled out a French fry, and nibbled on it gracefully.
“This way.” She guided him to the edge of the seawall, kind of dancing as she went, and away from the bulk of foot traffic. She plunked down on the cement, kicked off her shoes, and let them tumble to the sand some three feet below.
He shook his head, bewildered and bemused by her ability to turn anything into a lark. Jack stood there a moment, not sure what to do next, but when she turned those inquiring green eyes on him, he followed suit. He planted himself firmly beside her, then peeled off his socks and shoes and carefully set them to one side.
She giggled and fished another French fry from the sack. “This is so much fun. I’m glad we decided to skip the restaurant.”
“Uh-huh.” Skip the only four-star restaurant in Galveston, skip the birthday cake he’d arranged for the waiter to deliver to their table.
Let it go, Jack. This is what she wants. Spontaneity.
“Open wide.” She snuggled closer.
And the next thing he knew they were feeding each other French fries. Her fingertips lightly sweeping his lips. The easy way she touched him sent something hot and urgent gushing through his veins. He tasted salt and potato, but his tongue burned with the indefinable flavor of her skin.
They drank from the root beer together, their heads touching as they simultaneously sucked on the straws. Next, she tackled the shrimp sandwich, moaning with such gusto he couldn’t help but wonder what magnificent noises she made in bed.
“Oh, this is so good.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth, and he spotted a speck of tartar sauce clinging to her lush bottom lip. He sat mesmerized by that tiny droplet. Then her tongue darted out and whisked away the object of his fascination.
They sat eating and watching the sunset. After they finished, CeeCee gathered up the wrappers, padded to the trash can a few yards away, weaving through the throng on the seawall. Jack’s gaze followed her slender frame. He loved to watch her walk. The way she bounced with so much verve, so much life.
In that moment, a dark thought hit him. Who was he kidding? He could never be right for CeeCee. She needed someone more like Zack. Someone who could match her exuberance.
His heart filled with longing.
How he wanted her!
But was he playing the fool? Acting out of character in a sad attempt to win a woman he could never have?
She returned, smiling in the moonlight. She dropped from the seawall to the sand. “Come on,” she invited, reaching a hand to him. “Let’s go wading in the surf.”
He hesitated. From somewhere down the seawall came the sounds of a band warming up.
Arms outstretched, head thrown back, she twirled across the sand, her skirt spinning out from her like a glorious red flag. “Come catch me, Wild Man,” she dared, then took off down the beach.
Rolling up his pant legs, he then followed her into the water, fighting his natural tendencies, trying his best to be carefree and reckless, just the way she liked.
Zack wasn’t acting like Zack tonight.
Gone was his teasing banter, his wolfish grin, his take-no-prisoners charm. He seemed quiet, subdued, contemplative even.
Much more like his brother Jack.
And that bothered CeeCee.
She didn’t want to think about Jack. Not tonight. Not this weekend. All she wanted was a scorching affair with Zack. Nothing complicated. Nothing either of them would regret. Just have a damn good time and make lots of great memories.
Because memories were all she would ever have.
She refused to tempt fate, to defy the Jessup family whammy by falling in love. She could never hurt the man she cared about by subjecting him to the curse. So she would collect her memories, remember the day, and not dwell on what she couldn’t have.
Jack.
She stopped walking, turned, and saw Zack silhouetted in the moonlight, looking identical to his twin brother.
Uncertainty struck her. Maybe she shouldn’t have a fling with him. Maybe, instead of making her feel better about not being able to have Jack, a casual affair with Zack would only make her feel worse.
Especially since Zack showed signs of liking her as much as Jack did. It was all too confusing.
What she needed was something to take her mind off the issue. They needed to do something wild and crazy and unexpected. CeeCee’s gaze swept the seawall, searching for a diversion, searching for anything to distract her.
The purple-and-blue neon sign flashed from across the street.
Tattoos.
CeeCee’s breath caught. She’d always wanted a little tattoo. Something discreet in a place where most people wouldn’t see. Something to remind her that she was a free spirit and loving it. And Zack was the kind of guy game for such adventure. Who knew? He might already have tats. It would be something they could share. A memory to be made.
She ran back up the beach to Zack and jumped into his startled arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and buried her face against the hollow of his neck. He smelled wonderful.
“Whoa,” he said, latching on to her with both hands.
She mussed his hair. He looked into her face, the moonlight accentuating his masculine features.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Are you up for something really crazy?”
“Er...I don’t know. What have you got in mind?”
“Come on, where’s t
he risk-taking maniac your brother is always bragging about? Mountain climbing and hang gliding. Alligator wrestling and bar brawling—
“What’s going on in the wicked little mind of yours, CeeCee?”
Heavens above, she loved looking at him. His eyes twinkled at her, and the corners of his lips edged upward. She ran a finger along his cheek, felt his body tense beneath her.
“Just say yes.” She slipped from his grasp and dropped to the sand.
“Say yes to what?”
She took his hand and tugged him toward the seawall to retrieve their shoes. “Say yes to yes.”
“Okay, okay.” He laughed, perching on the edge of the wall to put his socks and shoes back on. It was a soothing laugh that warmed her to her toes. “Yes.”
“Jack?”
“What?” His eyes widened in alarm.
“Oh, I did it again.” She slapped a hand across her mouth. “I’m so sorry I keep calling you by Jack’s name. But when you laughed just now, you sounded exactly like him.”
“It’s all right. We’re twins. We sound alike.”
“Well, tie your shoes and come along then.
“Where to?”
“You’ll see.”
“Tell me what you’re up to, CeeCee,” he demanded in a sexy, commanding, masculine way.
“Why, to get inked. No self-respecting motorcycle man and his woman should be without one.”
A tattoo?
Jack balked, digging his heels into the sand. He didn’t want a tattoo. He wanted to take CeeCee to supper at the four-star. He wanted to kiss her on the ferry ride. He wanted to whisper sweet nothings to her on the horse-drawn carriage. He wanted to draw a bath, fill it with peach-scented soaps, and slosh around in it with her. He wanted to feed her champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries. He didn’t want to eat po’boys from a paper sack or walk the beach barefoot, and he certainly didn’t want to get a tattoo.
“Why do you want a tat?”
“Because they’re sexy and besides, a tattoo represents freedom.”
The woman certainly had skewed ideas of freedom. “How do you figure?”
“The freedom to do what I want, when I want, without anyone telling me no.”
“You know what they say about freedom, don’t you?”
“No.”
“It means you don’t have anything to lose.”
She got really quiet then, and her face went serious. “Maybe they’re right. I don’t have anything to lose.”
Jack felt awful. He’d inadvertently reminded her of that stupid curse. He wanted to reach out to her, tell her that she did have something to lose. Something very precious; her ability to give and receive love.
CeeCee shook off her momentary gloom. “I’m considering a dove on my tushy. Small. Very tasteful. Or maybe a dolphin. What do you think?”
“Honestly? I think there’s no need to elaborate on perfection.”
“Oh, you!” She tickled him lightly in the ribs. “What are you going to get? A big old Harley on your bicep? Maybe a lion or a tiger? Something ferocious? How about a Tasmanian devil?”
“I was thinking maybe a heart with ‘CeeCee’ running through it.”
She stopped and stared at him. “You’re kidding. Right?”
He shrugged. Uh-oh. Had he said something wrong? Cautious as a barefoot man walking on a carpet of glass shards, he studied her.
“Why would you want my name on your arm?” Suddenly she looked panic-stricken and Jack realized his mistake. “You wouldn’t want the name of some woman you barely knew for three weeks once upon a time, lingering on your arm forever, would you?”
“Relax. I’m kidding.”
“Whew.” She laughed shakily. “You certainly had me going there for a minute.”
“And you had me going when you said we were getting tattoos.”
“I wasn’t kidding, though.”
Jack looked up and realized they’d been moving steadily to this little parlor across the street from the seawall. The rubber had met the road. He was going to have to get a tattoo or tell CeeCee he wasn’t Zack.
But if CeeCee learned his real identity before she made love to him, before she had a chance to fall in love with him, she’d be humming, “Hit the Road, Jack.”
That thought was more terrifying than tattoos and not just because his heart would be irreparably damaged, but because CeeCee would never have her happily-ever-after if she keep insisting on chasing after bad boys.
The red neon sign flashed. Tattoos, Tattoos, Tattoos.
He took in a deep breath, his gaze sweeping across the grungy building. Did he spill his guts? Or keep his mouth shut?
“CeeCee,” he said. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“Yes?”
Their eyes met.
“Er... uh...” He scrambled to come up with a good excuse, a way out of this.
She touched his arm, her eyes open, honest, trusting. “What’s on your mind, Zack?”
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell her the truth, couldn’t stand to see the disappointment in her eyes.
“Do they take credit cards? ’Cause I’m low on cash.” He jerked a thumb at the tattoo parlor/
“It’s on me. Come on.” She pushed open the door plastered with bumper stickers advertising the shop owner’s liberal politics. The bell over the door tinkled.
Like a condemned man headed to the gallows, Zack followed.
11
Help! How was he going to get out of this? This’ll teach you to try to pull a fast one on the woman you love.
“Can I help you, dudes?”
The man behind the counter wore a red bandanna wrapped around his forehead, a suede leather vest with fringe on the bottom, no shirt, and faded holey blue jeans. Tattoos covered a good portion of his body, not to mention the numerous body piercings. From earlobes to nose to eyebrows and beyond. His dark hair, threaded with a bit of gray, hung long down his back.
Gulp. Hello rubber, meet road.
“We want tattoos,” CeeCee chirped.
“Are you sober, dudes?” He narrowed his eyes and studied them.
“As judges.” CeeCee smiled.
“’Cause I can’t tattoo you if you’re drunk.”
“We’re not drunk,” Jack assured him although he was beginning to wish for a tall bottle of Pedro’s tequila.
“Sweet. Pick out which ones you want, dudes.” The Big Lebowski wannabe waved a hand at all four walls covered floor-to-ceiling with thousands of tattoos. “They’re arranged in sections. Feminine stuff like butterflies and unicorns are over on the left, the masculine stuff on the right, unisex ones at the back.”
CeeCee dragged Jack to the back wall. “Oh, look. You could get a mermaid.”
“Nah.”
“Stick of dynamite?”
“I don’t think so.” He made a face.
“A Tweety Bird?”
He shook his head.
“You’re right. Too kiddish. We gotta find something that screams Zack! Let’s check out the macho section.”
Then he saw the caduceus, before he even thought, he reached out a hand to tap the picture. “I’ll have this one.”
“A caduceus?” She frowned and belatedly he realized his mistake. He was supposed to be Motorcycle Zack, not Dr. Jack. “Why would you want a caduceus?”
“No, not the caduceus. This one.” He let his finger slip to the artwork directly below the caduceus.
A grinning red devil.
Wonderful.
“That suits you to a tee.” CeeCee chuckled, then added, “Now come help me pick out mine.”
For the next half hour they browsed the shop. But while CeeCee looked at tattoos, Jack looked at CeeCee. His gaze caressed her creamy, flawless skin, and he cringed at the thought of her marring such exquisite beauty with a tattoo.
“You dudes ready?” the Big Lebowski asked when CeeCee finally managed to narrow her selection to a small, tasteful dolphin.
“Yes,” CeeCee t
old him, then whispered to Jack, “I’m going to have it on my tushy.”
He visualized her firm little fanny decorated with art and he hardened instantly. Then he realized that Tattoo Dude would get an eyeful of that fanny, too, and he clenched his jaw.
“You sure of your choices?” Tattoo Dude asked. “This stuff don’t come off with soap and water.”
“We’re sure.” CeeCee nodded.
“Then sign these waivers.” He pushed two clipboards with the appropriate forms and ink pens at them.
“I’m so excited,” she whispered to Jack, scrawling her name in her freewheeling, loopy script. “I’ve dreamed of doing this for years.”
Damn, why did she have to be so happy when he was still racking his brain for a way out?
“Thanks so much for doing this with me.” She squeezed his hand. “You’re the greatest. I wouldn’t have had the courage to go through with it without you.”
Okay. He could do this. He had survived medical school. If he could survive that grueling schedule, he could survive this. Marking himself for life with the devil’s effigy was no biggie. If this was the sacrifice it took to win CeeCee, then he would gladly accept the ink. Anyway, it was chic to decorate one’s body with ink art. Lots of people did it. So what if few physicians sported them. He would start a new trend.
“You’re so cool.” CeeCee squeezed his arm again, and in that moment, Jack felt like the king of the world.
All his life he’d wanted to be thought of as cool and hip and badass, just like Zack, but his cautious nature had prevented him from either following or leading the crowd when it wasn’t prudent. Now, he finally had his chance to test his mettle. Did he have what it took to be a wild man?
“Who’s up first?” The man gathered up his thick graying hair and pulled it into a ponytail with a rubber band he’d had on his wrist.
Jack glanced at CeeCee. She looked nervous. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, restlessly shifting her weight from side to side. He didn’t think he could stand watching her go through the process. Maybe after he finished, he could talk her out of it.
“I’ll go first.”
“Where you gonna put it?” the guy asked.
