The Fire You Hold (Heritage Series Book 2)

by Ciana Stone

  Naomie hurried to a bellboy in the lobby. "I'll give you twenty dollars to go to the pool and bring back my bag.

  "Sure. Can you point it out to me."

  Relieved that he didn't bother to ask questions, she accompanied him into the lounge that looked out at the pool and pointed to the empty chair with the colorful beach bag laying on it. He went out, got it and brought it to her. Naomie quickly fished her billfold from the bag, handed him twenty dollars and then pulled out her phone to call Amber.

  "What's up?" Amber answered.

  "Your uncle is here."

  "Russell?"

  "Yeah."

  "Shit."

  "You need to get back here," Naomie looked around as she talked.

  "You're going to have to stall him for twenty-four hours."

  "Amber, I can't."

  "Sure you can. Come on, Naomie, you can keep him busy until tomorrow night. I can be back by then."

  "And how do I explain your absence?"

  "Easy. I hooked up with someone and went out on a boat. We can make that story work."

  Naomie considered it. The last thing she was prepared for was seeing Russell, but it looked like she was going to have to figure something out. "Fine," she agreed. "But make no mistake. You owe me big."

  "I hear you. I'll be back before eleven."

  Naomie shoved her phone into her bag and headed for the elevator. She'd face Russell but not wearing a barely-there bikini. She took the elevator up to her floor, and when it opened she took one step and then froze.

  "Hello, Naomie."

  "Mr. Walker," she stepped out. "What are you doing here?"

  "Looking for Amber."

  "She's not here."

  "Then where is she? Richard's been trying to reach her for days."

  "Why? She's a grown woman."

  "He has his reasons."

  "Oh, well, that makes all the difference in the world."

  "Where is she?"

  Russell watched her eyes as she answered. "Like I said, not here." She walked around him, and he turned to watch. That was damn near a religious experience. Naomie Taylor wearing a sack dress would turn heads. Naomie in a very tiny bikini was enough to stop traffic.

  "Hold on," he hurried after her. "Where is she?"

  "I don't know."

  "You don't know or don't want to say?" He took her arm.

  Naomie looked at his hand on her arm and then up at his face. "I don't know."

  "I didn't come down here to play games, Naomie, so just tell me straight out. Is she okay?"

  "As far as I know."

  "As far as you know?"

  "That's what I said."

  "But what the hell does it mean? Do you know where she is or not?"

  "No, sir, I don't."

  "Then you don't know if she's okay."

  "I spoke with her ten minutes ago and she was fine."

  "I need to talk to her."

  "Then call her."

  "She doesn't answer."

  Naomie blew out a breath. "Fine, come to my room, and we'll call her."

  "After you," he gestured.

  Naomie started walking, trying not to look at Russell. She was still trying to get herself in check from the shock of seeing him standing on the beach when she surfaced. She wished Amber hadn't left her there alone to cover for whatever the hell she was doing. Naomie cared for Amber and would always help her if she could, but Amber's little adventures were not for the faint of heart and Naomie sure as hell didn't want this one to blow back on her.

  When they reached the door to her room, she inserted the key card and opened the door. "I thought you were returning this past weekend?" he asked.

  "Plans changed," she replied and pulled out her phone.

  Hoping she wasn't making a mistake, she placed the call. It went to voicemail. "Hey girl, it's Naomie. I need to talk to you so call me."

  She put the phone on the table and walked out onto the balcony, and he followed. "I don't know when she'll call me back. Could be minutes or tomorrow."

  "Fine, we'll wait."

  "This doesn’t seem like a case of her parents just being worried. What's going on?"

  "Richard thinks she could be in danger. He's made his share of enemies along the way."

  "So naturally he sends you."

  "Who else would he ask?"

  "I don't know." She looked out at the ocean.

  "Why didn't you come home?"

  "You mean why didn't I come back to work?"

  "No. I don't mean that at all."

  "What difference does it make?"

  "It makes a hell of a lot of difference to me," he advanced on her, and she backed away.

  "I should change."

  "Go ahead."

  "Fine." She walked inside and looked over her shoulder at him. "I'm going to shower."

  "I'll wait."

  "Fine." She hurried to the bathroom, closed the door and leaned back against it. She shouldn't have agreed to keep him occupied, just being around him was painful. How the heck was she going to make it through the next twenty-four hours?

  One hour at a time.

  Great, now her conscience sounded like Robert. This was not the way she'd hoped her vacation would end. Not even close.

  *****

  Russell stood on the balcony, staring out at the blue sea but not really seeing it. All he could think about was seeing Naomie come up out of the water. He'd never seen anything as beautiful or sexy in his entire life.

  Now that he was here, he wasn't sure what to do. He wouldn't leave until he spoke with Amber, but what did he do until then? Naomie sure didn't seem happy to see him.

  "Did she call?"

  Russell turned and watched as Naomie crossed the room and stepped out onto the balcony. Her hair was wet, combed back from her face and streaming down her back. Her face was free of makeup, but that didn't matter. She didn't need it to be gorgeous.

  Dressed in a pair of soft knit shorts that were slung low around her hips and a tank top that reached just halfway to her waist, she was, without a doubt, the sexiest woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

  "No, your phone didn't ring," he answered and when she stepped up beside him, asked. "Why didn't you come back, Naomie?"

  He thought maybe she was going to ignore him, but after a few seconds, she looked at him. "You know why."

  "Because when I said I wanted to keep what's between us a secret, you thought that meant I'm ashamed of it?"

  His question surprised her, and then it occurred to her that he'd been talking to someone about them. "DeLyn right? You told her."

  "How'd you know?"

  "Because only a woman would understand how those words would make a woman feel."

  "I never meant to make you feel bad or like I was ashamed."

  "But it's true, isn't it? You're ashamed to be seen with me."

  "Hell no, I'm not."

  "No? Then what?"

  "I'm…. damn." He looked away and stayed silent for a long time. Finally, just when she was about to turn and leave, he looked at her. "I guess I'm still pretty convinced that people would look at us and think, oh yeah, she's with that old geezer for his money."

  "Wow, you really don't think much of me at all, do you?"

  "I didn't say that."

  "No, just that you figure everyone else sees me that way. I get it. People can't figure out what race I am. Black, brown, Indian dot or Indian feather? Middle Eastern? Basque? Sure as hell not white. So, I'm some kind of woman of color which means I must be out looking to score with a rich white man."

  "I never said that. I'd sure never think it."

  "They why do you assume everyone else does?"

  "Human nature?"

  "To always assume the worst? Wow, you have very little respect for people."

  "You know it's the truth. Let's be honest here. Why in hell would a young woman who looks like you want some old man like me?"

  "I so hate it when you say that. Don't you get it? When I look at
you, I don't see old."

  "But I am. Old enough to-"

  "Be my lover."

  "Or your father."

  "I have one of those and don't need another. What I don't have is a lover. I do need one of those, but it seems you're not interested and I don't know how to be disinterested, so I didn't come back and I don't know if I ever will, to be honest."

  "I didn't say I wasn't interested and you know that's not the case because I am. But let's be realistic, Naomie. We could have sex right here, right now and when we're done, you could decide you were wrong and have no interest in me at all."

  "You're right." She took his arm to turn him toward her. "So let's find out."

  At that moment her phone rang. Of all the bad timing in the world, it had to ring now. The universe had a case of fuck you Naomie going. She went inside and picked up her phone.

  "Hey, what's up?" Amber asked.

  "Your folks are worried, so they sent your Uncle to find us. He's here at the hotel and he wants to talk to you."

  "Shit. Okay, put him on."

  Naomie handed the phone to Russell. "It's Amber."

  "Put her on speaker."

  "Fine." Naomie pressed the speaker button.

  "Amber?"

  "Hi, Uncle Russ. I hate mom and dad sent you all the way down here for nothing."

  "They were worried. Where are you?"

  "With a friend."

  "With a–" he looked at Naomie and she shrugged.

  "Amber, you need to call your parents."

  "Good god, you people act like I'm some high school graduate off on her first time at the beach without the folks. I'm fine, Uncle Russ and I'll get up with them. Stop worrying, okay? Lighten up and have some fun before you go home. It's Cancun for crying out loud."

  "Are you coming back to the hotel?"

  "Yeah, I'll be back late tomorrow. Naomie will you be there?"

  "Yep, see you then."

  "Okay. Bye."

  Naomie put the phone down and looked at Russell. "Satisfied?"

  He stared at her for a few moments. "I haven't been satisfied since the first time I saw you, and despite what you think, I'd never be ashamed to be seen with you. The honest to god truth is that I don't want to face the possibility that one day you'd be ashamed to be seen with me."

  "That couldn't happen."

  "Why not?"

  "Because that's not the way love works, Russ."

  "You used my name."

  "I did."

  "I want you to come home, Naomie."

  "Not yet."

  "Then when?"

  "After."

  "After what?"

  "After you've become my lover.'

  A knock at the door had her growling. "What the holy fuck?" She stomped to the door to find a bellman with the rest of the things she'd left at the pool, her tablet, beach cover-up, sandals, and a hat.

  "Oh, thanks," she said, hurried for her purse and handed him twenty dollars. "Thanks again."

  "My pleasure," he smiled at her.

  Naomie turned to face Russ. "Now where were we?"

  "Naomie, I don't think this is–"

  "This is the perfect time," she argued before he could finish his sentence. "Unless you tell me you don't want me, and if that's the case, then just spit it out."

  Without a word, he marched over and took her in his arms. Naomie knew inside of two seconds that while he might be scared of what people would say about them, he wanted her. That was something a man couldn't hide.

  It suddenly occurred to her, that she was asking him for the wrong thing. He might worry that he wouldn't last as long as she hoped, but that wasn't what kept him holding her at arm's length. He worried about what others thought of them.

  And she knew how to cure him of that. She pulled back. "Will you do something for me?"

  "I don't know. What is it?"

  "From now until Amber gets back, be my date, my boyfriend. Swim with me, lie on the beach, drink fruits drinks by the pool, take me to dinner and dancing and take me for a moonlight walk and swim. Be with me in public where everyone can see."

  "Why?"

  "Because I need to know you aren't ashamed of me." That wasn't a lie but wasn't the whole truth either.

  He looked into her eyes, looking perhaps for truth and then gave in. "I'm willing but I don't think boots and jeans are going to make for a comfortable swim and I didn't come prepared for swimming and such."

  "They have a shop here."

  "I'm not keen on shopping."

  "Then write down your sizes, and we'll call and have them send some things up. Do you have a room here?"

  "The penthouse."

  "The penthouse? Can I go see it?"

  "I don't see why not. Is that what you're wearing to the beach?"

  "Oh! No, I'll put my swimsuit on beneath it."

  "That bikini you were wearing earlier?"

  "No, another one."

  "Then get changed, hot stuff."

  "Okay, but you call the front desk and tell them to send up swims trunks in the style you want, short sleeve shirts, flip flops or slides, along with lightweight summer slacks and shirts."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  He sat on the bed and picked up the phone receiver, checked the directory on the phone itself and made a call. It wasn't lost on Russell that the tone of the person on the other end became markedly more friendly when he said who he was and which room he was in.

  By the time Naomie emerged from the bathroom, he'd given instructions and agreed to meet someone from the men's wear shop at the penthouse in fifteen minutes. Thoughts of choosing clothing items vanished when he got a look at Naomie. She stopped, turned around and then faced him again. "You like?"

  The swimsuit she wore was as close to a match of the color of her skin as could be achieved, but the fabric was made to look like fish scales. Technically, a one-piece suit, the halter top crossed her breasts, wound behind and then in front to merge just above the groin and disappear between her legs.

  It was as if she was wrapped with shimmering scales, a walking mermaid. She wore a loose skirt of sheer fabric printed with the same scale pattern. It rode low on her hips and was slit on both sides.

  Russell had a hard time finding his voice. "I–uh–you–holy hell, Naomie. You're killing me."

  "Is that a like or dislike?"

  "Definitely a like," he rose and crossed the room to her. "You look naked from a distance, like a mermaid who just grew legs and came to shore."

  "I'm glad you like. Did you call the men's wear store?"

  "Yes. Someone will meet us at the penthouse."

  "Then let's go!" She hurried to the closet, slid on a pair of sandals and then held out her hand to him. "Ready?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "If you're going to call me ma'am, I might have to revert back to calling you, sir."

  "Please no."

  "Okay, then no more ma'am."

  "You got it." With a smile, he opened the door and they headed for the elevator.

  Two men waited outside the penthouse door with two racks of clothing. "I'm only going to be here for a day," Russell said as he walked by them.

  "They just want to make sure to provide you with choices." Naomie smiled at the men and Russell saw the way their faces lit. Who could blame them? She was a walking turn-on.

  "Come in, please," she said to the men, "and let's see what you have."

  She saw the look on Russell's face as he opened the door and held it for them to roll the racks inside. "This is perfect for lounging at the cabana," one of them selected a colorful short sleeve shirt and held it up. "if you'd like to try–"

  The frown on Russell's face deepened, so she intervened. "Would it be possible for you to just leave this and Mr. Walker can make his selections in private? I'll ring you up when he's ready for you to retrieve what he doesn't want."

  "Of course, Mrs. Walker."

  "Thank you so much," she didn't bother to correct the man who'd responded. She just show
ed them out then returned to find Russell with his hands in his pockets staring morosely at the clothing.

  "I'm sure it's not all bad," she started going through things. "Oh, here we go." She pulled out a pair of light tan linen slacks. "This would be perfect for dinner. Oh, with this shirt," she showed him a white, long sleeve shirt."

  He shrugged. "Not awful."

  "And for now," she turned her attention back to the racks. "Yes, this." She removed a pair of shorts that looked like cargo shorts, minus the front leg pockets. "And this," she added a white short sleeve shirt of a kind of woven material. "Perfect for the beach."

  She held the articles of clothing out to him. "Well? Try them on to see if they fit."

  It was clear to Naomie that he wasn't keen on the whole thing. "Please? The water is amazing. If you rent snorkel gear, when you swim you can see forever. Please?"

  "Fine." He took the clothing and marched off to the bathroom.

  Naomie wandered around the penthouse until she heard him. "I feel like a dang fool in this getup."

  She turned and was struck again by something she didn't quite understand. "How can you be so tan?"

  "Huh?"

  "Considering that you always wear jeans and a button up shirt, you should be the whitest man in Texas, but you're tan."

  "It's natural. My mother was Mexican."

  "Wow," she walked over and unbuttoned his shirt. "Wow," she ran her hands up his body, over his chest and then down again.

  "It's not like something you haven't seen, you know."

  "I know," she admitted, "But it's fun to unwrap a gift, you know."

  "A gift?"

  "Yes. Today. It's your gift to me, and I'm going to enjoy every moment of it, including unwrapping it. But I won't take it off yet. I'll save that for the beach. There are a pair of nice leather slides on the rack. You should try them. The sand can get hot."

  Russell did as she said and then patted his pockets. "I left my phone in the bathroom."

  "Where it'll stay," she said and took her hand. "Come on, we're burning daylight. Let's go."

  "You're the boss."

  She smiled at him, suddenly wondering if she was making a mistake. Pushing him too much or in a direction that might backfire on her? She didn't know. All she could be sure of was that she wanted him to understand that the world was not going to judge him half as harshly as he judged himself and even if they did, it didn't matter.