Beautiful Deep

by Jordyn White

  “More of a brand. Like The Ritz-Carlton or Four Seasons. Couldn’t you see Rivers Paradise Resorts all over the world?”

  His voice takes on a different quality, and I recognize it right away. This he’s passionate about.

  “We could have locations in Hawaii and the Caribbean. Europe. Asia. Everywhere. God.” He shakes his head, his voice tinged with a rare emotion. “I’d love to be the one to blow this thing up.” He takes my hand and laces our fingers together. “Our kids wouldn’t inherit a resort. They’d inherit a worldwide empire.”

  Our kids?

  Empire?

  Maybe he didn’t mean it that way. Maybe I’m just being presumptuous, but it sure seems like he’s included me in the picture he’s drawing. And wow. What a picture it is. He’s already such an impressive, powerful man. What sort of man would he be if he created an empire?

  Does he really see me as a worthy partner to walk that road with him?

  “But...” and now his voice takes on a more practical tone. “Building something like that would mean a lot of travel and working elsewhere.”

  I spot the difficulty for him immediately.

  “Leaving your family.”

  He nods.

  “Maybe they would build it with you.”

  He nods again. “Maybe.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why not find out?”

  He takes a while to answer, softly stroking the back of my hand and looking thoughtful. “Because I know myself.” He holds my eyes. “If I put it out there, I’ll go for it. Whether they join me or not. And that’s a lot to give up.”

  I’ll be with you, I want to say. You won’t be alone.

  But I stop myself. Just the thought of saying that gets me all confused. How can I already know I want join my entire life with his? Isn’t it too soon?

  I squeeze his hand. “I’m sure whatever you decide, it’ll be the right thing and it’ll be amazing.”

  He cups my cheek and gives me a soft kiss. He holds my gaze, his eyes going soft. He looks like he wants to say something, but the moment passes and he kisses me again before leaning back in his seat and exhaling. “I suppose I should get my work over with so we can get on with our trip.”

  “Go right ahead. I’ll just sit here enjoying this magnificent wine.” I take a sip to prove my point.

  He smiles and gives me another kiss, then retrieves his laptop. I do try to be patient. I watch the sunset through the windows, listening to the soft clicks of the touchpad on his laptop. But his thigh is pressed against mine, and I can smell his amazing smell, and I’m eyeing the long couch on the other side of the aisle from us.

  “I’m curious,” I say slowly, turning and looking up at him. “Are you in the Mile High Club?”

  His hand hovers over the keyboard and he looks at me. “Are you?”

  I shake my head, giving him a slow smile.

  He snaps his laptop shut. “Well, we’d better take care of that right now.”

  Chapter 35

  Emma

  As always, Rayce is a man of contrasts. We took a private jet to San Diego where a rented Mercedes-Benz was waiting for us, because this man does like his luxury vehicles. From there he drove us to a street taco stand near the beach. We sat on a rickety wooden park bench devouring the best street tacos I’ve ever had, laughing and talking about certain food joints he’s encountered on his travels that he craves when he’s at home. This taco stand is one of them.

  I love this simple, human side of him. I love that he knows how to wear the hell out of a suit and can command the attention of an entire room with just the tone of his voice, while still enjoying the simple pleasures of life and indulging in the occasional bowl of Fruity Pebbles.

  After dinner we take a short walk on the beach, reveling in the freedom to be in public together without any worries. I’m surprised to learn he’s just as affectionate in public as he is in private, always either holding my hand or tucking me under his arm and making me feel so special and adored.

  This is what Aaron and Pierce don’t understand. If they saw us together, maybe they’d see he’s not the slime ball they fear he is.

  However, once we reach our hotel, some of my own doubts start to come to the surface.

  He’s brought us to a luxury resort adorned with marble floors and soaring ceilings and intricately carved solid wood furniture. While the bellboy takes our luggage up to our room, Rayce and I give ourselves a tour.

  We descend a curving marble staircase that lets out onto a gorgeous restaurant complete with candlelit lanterns on the tables and a central gleaming wooden dance floor. From here we exit onto the patio, the immaculately landscaped garden dotted with tiny ground lights.

  As we go, he talks about what he thinks they’re doing well here and what he has strived to improve upon at his own resort, because even amidst this five-star luxury there are things that aren’t quite up to his standards.

  It’s the first glimpse I’ve really had of how his mind works as a businessman, and I am simultaneously impressed with his brilliance and wondering if I truly live up to standards myself. He inhabits this beautiful world so naturally. More than inhabits it. He is the master of this domain.

  I’ve been exposed to this kind of wealth enough myself to know how to navigate it. But there’s still that nagging, little doubt.

  Holding hands, we walk alongside one of the pools, the soft tinkling from the water features lending a soothing quality to the air. The pool is lit under the water and glowing turquoise against the black evening night.

  “It’s so beautiful,” I say, trying to push my insecurities away.

  “It is,” he agrees, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb. “I don’t know if you’re more of a pool girl or a beach girl, but we probably have time for both.”

  Me in a bikini, in a place like this.

  I’m not ashamed of my body, or my tattoo, but I know Rayce. He has to think about how things look to the outside world, or at least believes he has to. How does he think I’m going to look to the outside world?

  I feel a gentle tug on my hand and I look up to find him examining my expression. “Is something wrong?”

  Geez, I didn’t mean to let my fears come out like this. I put on a smile and shake my head.

  He doesn’t buy it though, because he’s starting to know me too well. “What is it?”

  I shrug. “I was just being silly.”

  “Oh yeah?” He brings us to a stop pulls me snugly into his arms. “Silly about what?”

  I exhale. God, this man is so sweet. I should keep my mouth shut, but that’s never worked around him. “I’m just... you know, this is a really nice place and of course anyone looking at you wouldn’t be surprised to learn that you run something just like it. You look like you fit in. But I’m...”

  His brows pinch together and he watches me with concern. “You’re what?”

  I spit it out. “Probably not the kind of woman you’re used to.”

  “Thank god for that.”

  I don’t think he understands what I’m saying. “Just... think about it. You, me. In our swimsuits. You’re not the kind of guy who’s usually seen with someone like me.”

  “‘Someone like you?’ You mean someone beautiful and interesting and kind and strong enough to be her own person?” His voice has that firm don’t-even-think-about-arguing-with-me tone. “How about someone who’s head and shoulders above every other woman out there, and especially above anyone petty enough to judge her about a tattoo. A tattoo that’s absolutely beautiful, by the way.”

  Through his firm admonition I’ve softened in his arms. “Really?”

  “Emma,” he says softly, cupping my face in his hands. “I can’t wait to show you off to everyone I know.”

  And that’s how Rayce takes my fears and doubts and blows them into the wind like dandelion puffs. I do trust the things Rayce says. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever trusted anyone as
I trust him. This reinforced trust of him has been the best part of this entire trip so far, and the trip has been pretty amazing.

  Even though we were up late last night, seemingly unable to satisfy our craving for each other, we were out and about at a reasonable hour this morning. I think we’ve done so much hanging out indoors and in bedrooms that we were both eager to do something different. Not that we haven’t been enjoying our time in the bedroom as much as we always do. But we both keep talking about how fun it is to be out together.

  We started with an amazing brunch at the resort’s patio café, then came to a beautiful upscale outdoor shopping plaza near the resort to explore. Neither one of us seem to be much in the mood for buying anything. The halfhearted window shopping we’ve done has been more of an accessory to the main attraction, which has been strolling along and enjoying each other’s company and the beautiful SoCal weather.

  Though, there is one purchase I wish I could have made if it weren’t so obviously out of my price range: an absolutely stunning red brocade dress I spotted in a window display.

  The elaborate bodice fit snug through the breasts and hips, and the skirt flared out from the thighs in thick, luxurious layers of red satin and black lace. The hem in the front was high enough to reveal an equally beautiful pair of black strappy heals, but the fabric in the rear was long enough to sweep the ground.

  I didn’t even bother to go in. Just gave it a wistful glance as we walked by. Well, maybe “glance” isn’t the right word. It was somewhere between “glancing” and “drooling over.”

  But oh, was it beautiful.

  After a delicious lunch of enchiladas and margaritas at the Blue Iguana, we continue our browsing. As we pass a Build-A-Bear store, I examine the colorful displays of outfits and different kinds of stuffed animals, everything from bears to monkeys to frogs.

  “Did you want to go in?” Rayce asks.

  “Well...” I hesitate. I kind of do, but... “Isn’t that more for kids?”

  “You remember the video games, right?”

  I laugh. “Okay, yes. I want to go in.”

  Then I’m not quite sure how it happens, but we both end up with stuffed bears, trying to outdo one another in the outrageous outfit department.

  Rayce’s is wearing a little black suit which he declares is, “dashing against his brown fur,” along with a black superhero mask and purple white-trimmed cape fit for a king.

  Mine is a white bear sporting a tiny pair of overalls, a bold feathered hat, and a purple faux pearl necklace. I thought I was done until I found the tutus. I’m currently working stiff pink tulle over his chubby bear body.

  “Yours needs one, too,” I tell him.

  “My bear is a boy.”

  “It doesn’t sound like he’s very comfortable with his masculinity.”

  Rayce laughs. “Okay, fine. But at least make it a purple tutu.”

  “No, no, he likes pink.” I grab a second one out of the bin. “Don’t you want pink?” I ask the bear, then grab its furry little head and make him nod.

  “This is my bear,” Rayce says, pulling him out of my reach. “You have your own.”

  Soon were scuffling over the bear and giggling like a bunch of rowdy teenagers. And just like a bunch rowdy teenagers, we draw yet another disapproving glare from the woman behind the counter.

  “You are trouble,” Rayce says, that adorable, playful grin on his face. He grabs my ass, pulls me up against his side, and starts marching us up to the register. “We need to pay for these and go before you get us kicked out of here.”

  “Are we actually getting them?”

  He looks me in surprise. “Didn’t you want to?”

  “Well...” An adult is supposed to say that they don’t want something like this. But I look at my tutu-ed farmer bear with his granny hat and pearls and I want him. I grin up at Rayce. “Yes.”

  “Me too.”

  “I love that you’re so crazy sometimes,” I say.

  “And I love you.”

  We both stop and I look at him in shock. He’s looking shocked right back. My heart is pumping against my chest like I just finished a 400-meter sprint.

  “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

  So it was just an accident. I can’t tell if I’m relieved or not. I mean, it’s probably too soon for us to start making declarations of love. No matter how I actually feel. But still, hearing those words is doing something to me. My entire system is revving up, and I feel a little unsteady on my own two feet.

  How does he keep doing that to me?

  I need to save him from what has to be an embarrassing moment, though. I laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s okay. I understand. One time I ended a call with an insurance agent by saying ‘I love you.’”

  I laugh again, because I can’t read the expression on his face. The shocked look is gone, at least.

  “I have no idea why,” I continue. “It’s funny how things can slip out sometimes even when we don’t mean it.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t mean it. I said I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

  My heart starts in with the pounding again.

  Then he says with the same confidence with which he says everything, “Don’t worry. I don’t expect you to say it back. No pressure. Pretend the bear said it.”

  He holds his bear in front of his face. “I love you, Emma,” he says in a fake, deep bear voice, then he pokes the bear’s furry nose against my cheeks over and over again while making kissy sounds.

  I start laughing so hard I’m getting tears in my eyes. “Oh my God, you are crazy.”

  “But you love that about me, right?” he says with a wink. He gets us walking again and I peek up at him, not sure whether he was serious or not. Did he mean what he said but he’s playing it off to spare himself, or was he just playing in general? I’m not sure now.

  Still, as he pays for our bears with their silly outfits, all I can think about is how long he’s going to make me wait before I get to hear those words again.

  We spend the rest of the afternoon at the pool, and between the way he looks at me and the way he treats me, I feel like a goddess the entire time. This is definitely something I could get used to.

  As it gets close to dinner time, we debate where to go to eat. He suggests the resort’s restaurant at the bottom of the marble stairs, but I didn’t bring anything nice enough to wear at a place like that. Too bad, too, because that place looked amazing.

  But I don’t care where we eat as long as we get to eat together, and tell him so. We head back to our suite to clean up and change. As soon as we come into the bedroom, I spot something on top of the bed. It’s a large, white garment box with an elegant store logo embossed on the top.

  I recognize it immediately.

  I look at him. He’s leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and smiling at me. He didn’t.

  I return my attention to the box, slowly lifting the lid. I pull back thick sheets of tissue paper to reveal the red brocade dress. I press my fingertips to my lips, then lift the heavy dress from the box. It looks to be exactly my size.

  “You shouldn’t have,” I whisper, but I can’t stop myself from running my fingers over the fine needlework on the bodice and the silky material of the skirt. “When did you even do this?”

  “I called them when you went to the restroom during lunch.”

  I look at him. He’s giving me that soft smile again.

  “We also have reservations downstairs in thirty-five minutes.”

  “Rayce...” I carefully lay the dress on the bed, keeping my eyes on him.

  Part of me wants to tell him I can’t accept it. This dress has to be at least a couple thousand dollars. But I sense it would be tactless to do so. He looks so pleased. Even though that’s a hell of a lot of money for me to spend on a dress, I know the same is not true for him. He can probably purchase a dress like this as easily as he can buy a couple of bears that epitomize the phrase “fashion faux pas,” and I
didn’t argue with him about buying those.

  I walk up to him and slide my hands around his neck. He wraps his arms around my waist and I lean against his warm chest. “Thank you. Thank you so much. It’s beautiful.”

  He gently rubs the back of his fingers down my cheek. “You are a woman of grace and class, Emma Swanson. That dress is almost worthy of you.”

  Chapter 36

  Rayce

  I did not know it was possible to feel this happy. This woman lifts my heart, brightens the entire world, and makes me feel like the best possible version of myself. And this version cannot stop smiling. At least, not at her.

  I came down to the restaurant without her, since she wasn’t quite ready when it was time for our reservation. I told her not to rush, that’d I’d hold our table.

  This has turned out to be a fortune of fate.

  I’m sitting at a table near the far side of the dance floor, watching Emma descend the marble staircase. The dress hugs her curves and flares just below her hips. The hem is angled from front to back, revealing her calves and black high-heeled feet but sweeping down the steps behind her.

  One delicate hand glides over the marble banister while the other rests confidently at her side. Her hair is swept up in a gentle knot, the tips of loose strands brushing the base of her neck. God, that woman’s neck.

  The room disappears. The other diners, the few couples on the dance floor, the sweeping waltz they’re playing: it all seems to go still.

  Emma is the very picture of elegance and beauty.

  And I am struck.

  Just like the first time I ever saw her, it’s all I can do just to breathe.

  As she nears the bottom, her eyes sweep the restaurant, seeking me. I get to my feet and start in her direction. Her eyes leap to mine and immediately a smile blooms on her face.

  Oh, the way she smiles for me. It literally makes my heart hurt. But it’s a good kind of hurt. It’s the kind of hurt that says, I can’t live without this.

  We cross the room toward one another and meet in the middle of the dance floor. I pull her into my arms, the soft floral notes of her perfume pinching my heart. I frame my body, hold her hand and waist, and start to lead her in a dance.