by Roz Lee
“I don’t see why not. It would take some work, but it could be done. What are we talking about here?”
“I’d like a bedroom big enough for all four of us,” Fallon said.
“Me too,” Candace agreed. “That way, no one would have to go home. We’d all be home. I hate it when we’re all together, then one couple has to leave. It would be so much nicer if we could all just live together.”
“But we’d have two kitchens, two living areas.” Ryan said.
“How about this?” Fallon said. “If we combined the two master bedrooms into one large one, we could convert our suite into offices. Richard already made our guest bedroom into an office. Why couldn’t we move Ryan’s over there too?”
Quiet descended on the room as they contemplated Fallon’s suggestion. Finally, Richard spoke, “I’m okay with that. Ryan?”
“It could work. Are we sure we want to live together?” Ryan asked.
Candace and Fallon nodded their heads. Richard shrugged. “Hey, I lived in a ten by twelve foot room with you for four years. I think I can manage it again, especially if I have these two women between us every night.”
“I can’t believe I’m even considering this,” Ryan said. “You all know this is crazy, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” Fallon said. “But it’s nobody’s business but ours.”
“What about when we aren’t on the Lothario? I have no intention of living on this ship full time,” Ryan said.
“It wouldn’t take much to convert the plans for our cabanas at the new resort,” Richard said. “They haven’t started construction on them yet.” He glanced at Fallon. “As for our house on the island, I’m okay with enlarging the master bedroom.”
Fallon nodded her agreement.
“We could enlarge our master, couldn’t we?” Candace asked Ryan.
“You’re all serious about this?” A chorus of yeses went around the table. “Okay, I’m in. I’ll talk to our architect about the modifications on all four places. We may have to shift around some while the work is being done, but we can manage.”
“Good,” Richard said. “Let’s finish breakfast and get off this tub. Drew is probably wondering if we changed our minds.”
“I think it will do him good to get away from Bree for a while,” Richard said. “If I’m not mistaken, she’s moved into his cabin.”
“I’d like to be a fly on the wall in that cabin,” Fallon remarked.
“Don’t even think it,” Ryan said. “We don’t use the in-room security cameras for that sort of thing.”
“That’s too bad,” Candace quipped. “Those two are like nitroglycerin in a paint shaker. Watching the explosion would be fun.”
* * * * *
“Here’s our ride,” Ryan said. A black limo pulled to the curb in front of them. The driver stepped out, but remained standing in the open door. Enrico Sanchez had been their driver many times before when they docked in Miami. He owned his own small limo company, and could be counted on for his service and discretion. Nevertheless, Drew had done a complete check on Enrico and all his employees.
“Hi, Enrico. Thanks for picking us up,” Richard said. The trunk popped open and they all walked around to the back of the car to drop their overnight cases in. Drew stood by, his eyes scanning the area for the slightest hint of trouble.
“I brought you a surprise,” Enrico said.
“You know we don’t like surprises,” Fallon said.
As Candace stowed her bag in the trunk, Enrico muttered something that sounded like, “You aren’t going to like this one either.” Then he ducked back into the driver’s seat. Ryan slammed the trunk and Richard opened the rear passenger door for Fallon. Candace slid in beside her, followed by Ryan, then Richard. Drew slid in last, pulling the door closed behind him.
“Gabe. Hey, nice to see you,” Ryan greeted the man seated in the rear facing seat. “Our meeting isn’t until tomorrow, is it?”
Candace had met Gabe Sanders a few times. His law firm handled most of Ryan and Richard’s private affairs. Ryan described him as a cross between a lawyer, an agent, and a publicist. In short, he was a ‘go to’ guy for celebrities. From the look on his face, this wasn’t a social call. Candace got a sick feeling in her stomach. Whatever it was, she was certain she wasn’t going to like it.
“I figured you’d call Enrique to pick you up, so I asked him to give me a ride. Who’s this?” He nodded in Drew’s direction.
“He’s our security expert, Drew Whitcomb. You can trust him,” Ryan said.
Gabe and Drew eyed each other for a moment, then shook hands. Gabe opened the briefcase on the seat beside him and pulled out a stack of tabloid news rags. Candace relaxed a little. It had taken a while, but she’d finally gotten used to the bizarre stories with no basis in fact. What was one more? Gabe handed one to Ryan, and one to Richard. Candace looked over Ryan’s shoulder at the lurid headline. Her stomach rolled.
“Is any of that true?” Gabe asked.
“What if it is?” Ryan asked.
“Then we have a public relations nightmare.”
“Shit,” Richard said.
“Let me see.” Fallon, sitting on the far end, leaned forward and grabbed for Ryan’s copy.
“Who?” Ryan asked as he relinquished the paper to Fallon.
“One of the kidnappers. He claims the four of you practically had an orgy on the beach, right in front of him.”
Candace buried her face in her hands. “Oh God.” Ryan dropped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close.
“It wasn’t an orgy. It was a kiss. We were so damned happy to see Candace and Fallon alive, we didn’t even think about who saw us.”
“Should have killed them all when we had the chance,” Richard said.
Drew grunted something that sounded like I told you so.
“Well, that may be true, but they’re very much alive, and they’re talking,” Gabe said to Richard. “So, you aren’t denying this?”
“No. At least not to you, but I won’t have our wives talked about this way,” Ryan said. “Do what you have to do to end this.”
“What, exactly do you want me to do? I can deny it all you want, but I take it there are others who can verify your relationship.”
“I don’t care what they say,” Fallon said. “We haven’t done anything wrong. They make it sound like we screw each other in public or something. It’s not like that,” she insisted. The pain in Fallon’s voice brought tears to Candace’s eyes. She took Fallon’s hand in hers and squeezed. Leave it to Fallon to try to make the world understand.
“It doesn’t matter whether you do or not,” Gabe said. He rubbed a hand over his face, then looked them all over with an assessing gaze. “What matters now is how we handle this. I can put out all the press releases in the world stating this guy is nuts, that he’s seeking vindication, but if the four of you so much as go shopping together, the rumors will only get worse. By the way, I’ve booked you at two different hotels. The paparazzi have your usual one staked out. I’m surprised they weren’t on the dock waiting for you to leave the Lothario.”
“I’ll have to make some phone calls. Give me the information,” Drew said. Gabe handed over the printed reservations and Drew pulled out his cell phone.
Richard waited until Drew nodded his okay with the new hotel arrangements. “Okay then,” Richard agreed. “I’m with Ryan on this. Do what you have to do to put an end to this. We’ll do our part. I won’t have my wife, or Candace, talked about like they’re tramps.” He tossed the tabloid back at Gabe. “Put an end to it. As of right now, it’s over.”
“Agreed. We were just fine before. We’ll be fine again.” Ryan tightened his hold on Candace as if holding her tighter would make his words any less painful.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Gabe said. The glass partition between the driver and passenger compartments slid down. Gabe said over his shoulder, “Enrico, take me home, then you can drop my clients off at their hotels.” The partition slid
back into place. “Whatever you do, I don’t want to see the four of you together again, ever. Is that clear?”
“This is bullshit,” Fallon said.
“The four of you have pushed the envelope for years now, but I’m afraid flaunting your four-some in the face of society has gone too far. Personally, I don’t give a shit what you do. I like you, all of you. Your personal life is your own business.”
Richard responded. “We appreciate that, Gabe. We really do. None of us expected our new relationship to hit the tabloids like this. It makes us look like a bunch of perverts. I’m okay with the world thinking I’m one, and I don’t think Ryan cares if they think he’s one, but our wives. . . that’s different.”
* * * * *
Candace held onto her anger by a thread. The tears she’d willed not to fall spilled down her cheeks as if no dam existed to keep them in check the moment she crossed the threshold of their hotel suite. Behind her, Ryan closed the door. His long sigh did nothing to soften her anger at him. She hurt too bad to care whether he followed her to the bedroom or not.
She slammed the door and flung herself face first onto the bed. This wasn’t supposed to happen. How could two reasonably intelligent men be so stupid? They were hell bent on ignoring something Candace knew in her heart she could never ignore. Her whole body ached as if something vital had been amputated without benefit of anesthesia. She cried. She cursed the men she loved. In one heartbeat she wished Ryan to hell, in another she cursed him for not holding her when she needed him the most. Exhaustion finally overtook her, and she slept.
Voices in the outer room woke her. She felt like a wrung out dishrag, stiff and sorely used. A door opened and closed, and all was quiet again. Had Ryan left? Her stomach cramped at the thought of being alone. Even though she hated what he and Richard were doing, she loved them, and she needed them. So where was her husband? Why wasn’t he here, holding her and telling her everything was going to be all right. Nothing was going to be all right again, but she longed to hear it anyway. Maybe if Ryan held her enough, said it enough times, she would begin to believe it.
The doorknob turned and Candace feigned sleep. The mattress dipped as Ryan sat on the edge, his hip nudging her back. She’d slept in a tight ball, and every muscle in her body screamed for release, but she refused to let him know she was awake. His voice shattered her resolve.
“Candy, I know you’re awake.” He placed a warm hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. “I’m sorry. Please don’t do this, I can’t stand it.”
She couldn’t look at him. She craved his touch, but wanted to shake him off at the same time.
“It’s the right thing to do. I know it hurts. I’m hurting too, but please, can’t we talk about it?”
“No. There’s nothing to talk about,” she sniffed as new tears came from God only knew where.
“I need you, Candy. If I don’t still have you, I don’t think I can stand it. So please, talk to me. I ordered food. It’s late, you need to eat.”
“Go away,” she cried into her tear soaked pillow.
His hand stroked up and down her arm in a soft caress. It was tempting to turn into his arms, but she was so mad at him she couldn’t let herself give in. His warmth seeped into her skin where his hip and hand touched her. God, she wanted to take the comfort he offered, but she couldn’t. Not yet. She had to try to mend the hole in her heart before the pain would let her see any reason in their situation. For long moments he sat beside her while she cried, then with one last squeeze of his hand, he left her alone again with her grief.
Candace woke again to total darkness. Someone had closed the drapes while she slept. She had no idea of the time. It could be the middle of the night, or morning. She took stock of her situation. She still wore the shore clothes she’d left the ship in, but she wiggled her toes, her shoes were gone. Her nose was cold, but the rest of her was warm beneath a blanket. A glance at the other side of the bed told her she’d slept alone. Another pang of hurt speared her heart as she remembered turning Ryan away when he’d offered comfort. She hadn’t been ready to talk then, wasn’t sure she was ready now, but they couldn’t go on like this. They had to come to terms with their future, whatever it was going to be.
She slipped her feet to the floor and made her way to the bathroom. A hot shower went a long way to reviving her. Hunger gnawed at her stomach. How long had it been since they’d all ate breakfast together, discussing plans to live together? Less than twenty-four hours, but it might as well of been a lifetime ago it felt so distance, so unreal. Candace belted the hotel issue robe around her waist, took a deep breath and opened the door. Time to face the future.
“Are you okay?” Ryan asked from his seat on the edge of the bed facing the bathroom door.
“No,” she answered truthfully. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be okay again.”
Ryan nodded. “It’s early. When I heard you get up, I ordered breakfast. It should be here soon. I had the boutique downstairs send up some clothes for you last night. They’re in the closet. I hope you like them.” She’d never seen Ryan look so vulnerable, so unsure of himself. Maybe he was hurting as bad a she was. She wanted to go to him, but the ugly anger reared its head and she couldn’t do it. “I’ll leave you alone to dress.”
The defeated slump of his shoulders as he left, pulling the door closed behind him was like a fist around her heart. Somehow, they had to make it through this. She’d all ready lost too much. She couldn’t lose Ryan too. Determined now, she crossed to the closet.
* * * * *
“Don’t tell me it’s going to be all right. We both know it’s not,” Candace said. She helped herself from the room service tray. The food was much the same as the last meal she’d eaten, but held all the appeal of cardboard. Her stomach reminded her she needed to eat, so she did. Food was fuel now. Fuel she needed for the fight that was ahead of her. And she would fight for what she knew was right. The four of them belonged together, no matter what society said.
“Okay. Fair enough. I’m not any happier about this than you are. I love you. Nothing will ever change that. I know how much you love me, and I don’t think anything will ever change that either. You’re mad at me right now, and I suspect you don’t like me very much at this moment, but you still love me.”
No use denying it. “I still love you, and yes, I’m mad at you. I might even hate you a little bit.” The second that last statement left her lips, she wanted to take it back. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean that. I’m mad, but I don’t hate you.”
“I know. No offense taken. Look, Candy, I don’t give a damn what the tabloids say about me, but when they drag you through the mud. . . .”
“I can take care of myself, Ryan. Don’t you think I have a say in this? What about Fallon? I know how much you love her, too. Are you willing to hurt both the women you love, in order to prove you can protect us?”
“I don’t want to hurt you or Fallon. Neither does Richard, but the rest of the world doesn’t understand the kind of relationship we have. They won’t care what Richard and I do. They’ll probably hoot and holler and make us out to be gods for loving two women at the same time, but that’s not the way they’ll treat you and Fallon. The double standard is alive and well across the globe, no matter what the women’s movement says. They’ll attach all kinds of names to you, and none of them will be flattering. I won’t stand by and let that happen, not if I can help it.”
“Don’t you think I have a say in this? I don’t care what they say about me. I do care about how we live our lives. I want to be with you, but the feelings I have for Fallon and Richard are real too. Why should I let people we don’t know dictate who we love?”
“What about the people we do know? What about your parents? What about your sister and her husband?”
“I’ll explain it to them. They’ll understand because they love me.”
“Candy, I know I’ve said this before, but I want you to really think about it. We haven’t exactly thought this whole thi
ng through. Ever since Gabe showed me that tabloid, I’ve been thinking about the implications down the road. Besides our families now, we have to think about the future. What about children? We talked about the possibility of having kids someday. The questions along that line are too numerous to count.”
“I have thought about it. I want kids. At least two, maybe more. People used to raise their kids in extended families. Multiple generations lived together. Raising the children was the responsibility of all the adults, not just the biological parents. I don’t see how having Richard and Fallon be parents to our children would be any different.”
“That’s all fine and good for our children, but, and let me throw this out as a possibility—what if I have a child with Fallon, or you have a child with Richard? Planned or unplanned—how do we handle that?”
Candace’s heartbeat sped up like a racehorse let out of the gate. She hadn’t thought about either of those scenarios, but the idea of having Richard’s child sent a bolt of desire to her womb. Yes, she would like that. To have children fathered by both the men she loved, these two remarkable men? But how would she feel about Fallon having Ryan’s child? She sipped her coffee and rolled the idea around in her head and her heart. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how I’d feel about you and Fallon having a child together. At first I assumed my children would be your children, but you’re right, accidents happen, and who knows? Maybe we might make a conscious decision to have children with our other. . . .”
“Other what? That’s another problem. What exactly would we be to each other? I can’t have two wives, not legally. And you can’t have two husbands.”
“Not legally, but there are polygamous marriages, legal or not. What we call each other is up to us. I don’t think it’s anyone else’s business but ours.”
