by L. L. James
She frowned a bit at that and asked, “But, who are you? I prefer to know the name of the men I kiss.”
“Ah,” Marek dipped his head in concession. “I’m Marek, and if you must know I kissed you because I wanted to and couldn’t resist. Nothing more, nothing less. What is your name, cheri, and what brings you to Tortola?”
The waitress arrived and placed two cobalt blue glasses on the table. Both Marek and Carm looked up at Dara in question, but only Marek spoke. “What’s this, Dara?”
Nodding her head in the general direction of the thick crowd, Dara replied, “A gift for you and da lady. Someone thought you two needed a drink. Good job up der tonight, Marek. You boys sure do look fine singin’ dem songs. Enjoy da drinks now.”
Dara left them alone again and Marek turned his attention back to Carmen and studied her. Up close she was even more alluring. Pale blond hair shimmered under the lights, falling loose to her shoulders. The all-one-length of the cut flirted with the curve of her neck and looked so soft. He wanted to run his fingers through it to discover just how soft it was.
She possessed a smooth, flawless complexion with the merest scattering of freckles across her small nose. Up close her eyes were rich and bright blue, not the dark blue he had first thought. Her lips were soft rose, plump, and devoid of makeup. They were perfect.
Marek let his eyes slowly travel over her as she stared silently at him. Down his gaze went, over her slim, graceful neck and down over her bare, tan shoulders. Stopping briefly at the swell of her impressive cleavage, Marek silently applauded his approval and let his gaze lower further.
“It’s Carmen.” She finally said. “I saw you earlier today.”
Marek dragged his eyes back to Carmen’s face and asked, “I’m sorry, Carmen. I didn’t catch that. What did you say?” Smiling at her in apology, Marek lifted his hand and ran a finger around the rim of his drink.
She hesitantly returned his smile with a stunning and sweet one of her own and replied, “It’s just Carm. Since you’ve already kissed me there’s no reason for formality, is there? Anyway, I saw you today after I arrived at the inn I’m staying at. You were outside sitting in the hammock talking to a rather rotund cat.”
Marek laugh softly and shook his head. He’d always had a soft spot for animals—cats in particular. “Ah, so you are staying at the Green Island Inn, oui? Where did you see me from?”
A blush quickly tinted her cheeks and Carm broke eye contact. Marek found himself thoroughly charmed by her. He waited in silence as she fingered a napkin and began tearing small pieces of the red paper. Finally she peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. “I’m staying there for a few days in a room on the second floor. I saw you out of my window.”
Marek lifted a dark brow. “Really now? You were spying on me? Naughty girl.”
A spark lit in her bright blue eyes and Carmen sat up straighter in her chair. Raking her hands through her hair and holding the ends together Carmen sucked in a breath, then let out a laugh. Marek felt the sound echo inside him, warm and welcome.
“I was going to deny that I spied on you, but I won’t. You’re right. I did spy on you. I enjoyed the view too, so to speak. What were you doing there? Do you run the place?”
Marek laughed at her attempt to change the direction of the conversation away from her slightly questionable behavior. Carmen was turning out to be quite delightful. He found himself wanting desperately to take her home. To take her back to his place and make love to her for hours, this woman he’d just met.
A niggling feeling tugged at his conscience warning him that he might be getting in over his head and it would be wise to back off. Never before had he felt such powerful emotions for a woman at first sight. But no one would accuse Marek of being wise. Daring, ballsy—anything but wise. He had no intention of backing off.
Mentally pushing the annoying voice aside, Marek returned his focus to keeping the night fun and light. Right now complications were the last thing he needed. What he wanted was a night of fun and frolic between his sheets. And tonight Carmen was going to be his playmate.
He rubbed his chin and slid his hand down his throat to the back of his neck. He tipped his head to the side and massaged the tense muscles. He gazed through lazy, hooded eyes as Carmen lifted her straw from her glass, held her finger over the top hole and put the other end in her mouth. Releasing her finger, Marek watched as she sucked her drink out of the straw, her pink tongue licking the remains of the concoction from the sides.
Arousal shot through him like lightning, bunching his already tight muscles with awareness. The woman was a sexual goddess. Her ample curves and sensual movements stirred to life an almost primitive desire in him. A primal need to claim and mate.
Surprised by the ferocity of his reaction to her, Marek broke his gaze and looked over her shoulder. Taking deep, calming breaths he stared at a mural depicting a sugar cane harvest on the wall behind Carmen and tried to regain his composure.
Then she spoke, her voice soft and warm. “I don’t suppose it matters where you work, does it? I’m feeling quite nice—a little drunk actually—so why don’t you and I take a stroll along the beach and get to know each other better. Give me a vacation to remember, Marek.”
The way she said his name sent shivers down his spine. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly parched. He wanted this woman more than he’d ever wanted any woman in his life.
And she was offering herself to him.
Marek picked up his glass and held it in front of him. Looking deep in her gorgeous eyes, Marek spoke low and firm. “A toast, oui? To a night neither one of us will soon forget. I can promise you nothing less.”
Carmen raised her glass and added, “To a wild ride.”
Marek smiled at that, heat churning in his gut at her highly suggestive words. “I’ll second that. Bottoms up, cheri.”
Smiling at each other as they clinked glasses, Marek lifted the blue glass to his lips and took a long, refreshing drink. He downed half the glass before awareness set in. Setting down his glass with a thud, he glanced with apprehension at Carm. She’d taken a healthy drink as well and was licking the small mustache off of her top lip.
Marek looked around but couldn’t find their waitress. Swearing softly, he grabbed his glass again and examined the contents.
Carmen leaned forward in concern and asked, “What’s wrong, Marek? Is your drink all right? Does it taste bad?”
Still frowning over his glass, Marek muttered, “This drink tasted a bit off. Did yours?”
Carmen shook her head, worry filling her eyes. “No, I don’t think so. Why, what could be wrong?”
Setting down the glass again, he turned his head to look at Carm. “It’s nothing that I haven’t experienced before, if it is what I think it is.”
Carmen reached over and gripped his tanned hand with her small one. “Marek, what is it? Tell me. Are we in trouble?”
Marek chuckled, “Depends on your definition of trouble. I think we’ve been slipped some mushrooms in our drink, Carm. If so, then you’ll definitely get your vacation to remember.”
“Mushrooms? Do you mean magic mushrooms?”
He stared Carmen in the eye and watched it hit her. Watched as her eyes went wide and she leaned back in her chair.
Waving her hand back and forth in front of her face, Carmen glanced past it to Marek and whispered accusingly, “I knew you were trouble.”
Four
Sharp, prickling pains danced against the back of her eyelids as Carmen painstakingly opened her eyes. A greasy wave of nausea hit her as she tried to focus. A groan escaped as the pounding in her head became more pronounced with the effort. Little drummer boys were steadily beating a rat-a-tat-tat on their drums somewhere behind her temples.
She felt like shit.
Inhaling a cautious breath, she gazed at the tin ceiling of her hotel room and did a mental take of her body. Her mouth had been stuffed full of wool and her tongue felt two sizes too big. And she wished s
omeone would chop her head off just to stop the agony.
What the hell happened last night?
Gently placing her hands on her throbbing temples, she tried to swallow around the Brillo pad stuck in her throat. Gingerly stretching her long legs, Carm bit back another moan as the movement brought to light aches in her body she didn’t know she had.
She tried to remember the events of the previous night, but couldn’t think around the pain in her abused head. Boy, she must have really tied one on last night.
Apparently you had a little too much fun, Carm, my girl.
Unsure if it had been worth it—evil little leprechauns were busy doing an Irish jig in her head—Carm stretched her bare arms up in the air. Slowly taking another deep breath, mindful of her iffy stomach, she absurdly felt like laughing. And she would have laughed if her head wasn’t about to roll off her shoulders.
She hadn’t been this hung over since her college days. Maybe not even then. The way she currently felt brought new meaning to the term shit on a shingle.
Now if she could only remember what had gone on she’d be thrilled. As her sensitive eyes adjusted to the bright light streaming in through the open window she gazed up at her hands. “What the--?”
Too concerned now with what was on her hand to worry about the fact her raw throat felt like minced meat, Carm brought her left hand down for closer inspection. At the same time something else occurred to her.
She was naked as a jay.
She never—ok, rarely—slept naked. But that wasn’t really the part that had her worried. Bringing her hand within a few inches of her face, she squinted her eyes and stared.
No, it couldn’t be, could it?
Shiny as a new penny and perched on her left hand ring finger sat a dainty oyster shell ring. The sunlight brought out the blues, greens, and pinks of the shell as Carm turned her hand this way and that.
She’d had one of those rings when she was a kid and her parents had taken her and Kate to the Oregon coast. She and her sister had begged their dad to let them buy them and had sported matching ones the entire weekend. She remembered the rings had cost her dad the grand total of less than fifteen bucks. But they’d been darned nifty to ten and twelve year olds.
What the heck was she doing wearing one now? On her ring finger, no less. Not something a girl especially wanted to wake up and find herself sporting after a night of hard drinking.
Carm whispered around her scratchy throat, “What happened last night?”
“We got hitched, cupcake.”
Carm screamed at top volume and leapt out of bed, moving faster than she’d ever moved in her life. Dragging the sheet with her as she darted across the room, she swept a hand through her disheveled hair and pulled it out of her eyes.
There’s a man in my bed! Why is there a man in my bed? Oh hell, I did something really, really bad didn’t I?
Spinning around to face the bed Carm stared hard at the man lying amidst the rumpled sheets.
Right, and why wouldn’t he be? Of course he was naked, too.
Wait a minute, I know him.
“Marek? Is that you?”
The guy had his face turned away from her and was lying sprawled across the bed on his stomach. One of his hands had crept up to cover his ear when she’d let out the banshee wail. His bicep flexed as he shifted, displaying impressively toned muscle.
“Keep it down, will you? I can hear you fine woman, you don’t need to yell.”
Ignoring her own tender head, Carm demanded, “What do you mean we got hitched? What happened last night, and why are you in my bed?”
Marek let out a long sigh and rolled his head around to face her, revealing tight, hard muscles in his back and shoulders. For a moment she couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the sight of such delicious flesh. The man was amazingly fit, all hard and sculpted.
As he shifted, the sheet that had been riding low across his waist dipped even lower. Carm felt her face flush hot as the cleft and top of his tight butt came into view. Heat flooded her body, shocking her with the intensity. She felt her nipples grow hard with arousal and nearly gasped. The audacity! How dare her body betray her at a time like this?
She had to figure out what had taken place last night, not spend time ogling some naked male body. Even if it was a damned fine one.
Puffing out a frustrated breath, she trailed her gaze back up Marek’s body to his face.
Bad idea.
He’d turned his head in her direction and his lazy, sleepy eyes gazed up at her from under heavy lids. Instantly, her frizzled mind flipped a succession of images of Marek through her memory. Flashes of him on stage at the bar, of him singing and playing the drums, of him walking toward her. Then it freeze framed on an image of him kissing her.
Oh, shit.
Marek snapped her back to reality when he spoke. “I don’t remember the details right off hand, but I do recall us buying these rings at the gift shop attached to the bar last night. Merde, it’s the details after that get fuzzy.”
Carm’s mind reeled with the implication. Opening her mouth to saying something, she clamped it shut again and huffed. It can’t be. She can’t be married. Not to a total stranger. Not when she can’t remember the details and they are both naked . . .
Double shit!
Carm found a wicker chair and sunk down. She refused to accept the glaring evidence. If she did, well then that made her a sell-out. And she didn’t like the sound of that.
Eyes wide, she looked back at Marek. He’d shifted onto his side, one hand propping his head up. The sheet slung low over his chiseled abdomen. Without a doubt he was even sexier in the morning light. The bar had dimmed the vibrancy of his eyes and warmth of his skin in the low light. In broad daylight, he was simply scrumptious.
Lazy, hooded eyes of the most translucent, intense shade of green half hid behind dark, thick lashes. She could happily stare into them all day if she weren’t in such a mess. As it was, she found herself distracted by the sight of him in her bed.
She’d never had a man in her bed before.
Carm watched as he rubbed a hand over his unshaven face, yawned, and scratched at his cheek. He looked thoroughly mussed with the dark shadow beard covering his strong jaw and his hair wildly curling. Marek was way sexier than a man had the right to be.
It aught to be illegal for a man to look that good. Or, at least for him to look that good in the presence of usually levelheaded virgins. Damn the man.
Carm stifled a groan as he licked his lips. He grinned, fast a lightning, and she knew he’d heard her anyway.
She sat up straight in the chair and gripped the white linen tight against her chest. “Wait a minute. You said rings. Plural. And how do you know we married each other if you can’t remember? I certainly can’t remember, so if we both can’t remember then maybe it didn’t happen.”
Marek smirked and laid back against the pillows, slipping one hand behind his head, and pointed across the room with the other. With the hand that sported a simple little oyster shell ring. “Nice try, sweetheart. Great theory, but for one major flaw. Looks like the inn sent up a little newlywed basket.”
Her gaze shot over to the basket sitting on top of the dresser. Standing abruptly, ignoring her achy body and raw, unsettled stomach, Carm marched over to it. Full of little delectable treats for new couples, the basket held chocolates, champagne, other nonsense, and a gift card for a free massage and spa treatment.
That didn’t worry her overmuch. What worried her was the certificate of marriage lying next to it. With a shaking hand she reached for the paper and picked it up, zeroing in on her name.
Yep, that was definitely her signature.
Dropping the incriminating evidence like it was on fire, Carm spun around and yelled at Marek. “How could this be? I can’t be married to you, I don’t know you! And why are you so fucking calm? Say something dammit!”
On the verge of a panic attack, she shook violently and clenched her fists as she waited f
or Marek to say something, anything. She barely remembered the guy, how could he be her husband?
One night of trying to live a little and look what she did? She up and threw away everything she thought she stood for. So guess what that made her? A hypocrite.
Carmen Hogue was a cheap, pathetic hypocrite.
Tears streamed silently down her face as she gazed helplessly at Marek. What was she going to do?
She watched him sit up in bed and rake a hand through his thick hair. Concern etched his brow in a low, firm line as he stared at her.
Heaving a great, heartfelt sigh, he finally spoke. “Calm down, Carmen. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. Oh right, you’re not wearing any. We’ll figure something out, cheri. If we even slept together—which I’m almost positive we did. We’ll find a way to take care of this.”
Carm wiped at a tear and ignored the panty remark. “I’ve never been with anyone, Marek. How would you feel if you had no memory of your first time, and discovered you’d just given it away to the first good looking stranger that came along and caught your fancy?”
Surprise lit his face and Marek gaped, “You’re a virgin? Oui? You don’t look like one.”
“Oh really? And just what are virgins supposed to look like, Marek?” She retorted, her voice swimming in sarcasm.
Holding out a hand, he apologized, “Sorry that was crass of me. Why are you still a virgin?”
“Why is your accent stronger when you first wake up? Some things just are. They’re part of you, who you are. And choosing to be a virgin is simply part of who I am. Or at least a part of who I was. I don’t know who I am now.”
Marek cocked his head to the side and studied her. “But why choose virginity as your statement? Surely you had opportunities before now? Any man would love to bed you, cheri. Why hold out? Unless you’re afraid of sex.”
Indignation burned hot in her eyes as she glared at him. For a moment she couldn’t speak, and then she snapped, “I chose to be a virgin because I’m worth it. Not for any other reason. I value myself and wanted to wait for love, damn it. Not just to give it away on a whim. Which is exactly what I ended up doing anyway. But I don’t have to justify myself to you or convince you my reasoning is valid.”
