A knock at the door interrupts my packing. I told the front desk I was moving into another room, partly to force me to push past my nerves, but also for their convenience. Expecting a housekeeper anxious to get inside my room to begin cleaning, I’m surprised when I open the door and find Asher standing before me with a wide grin.
“Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.” It’s hard not to look at his lips and remember our shared kisses.
“Are you all packed and ready?”
“Just about. I need to grab a few more things, then I’m ready.”
“Do you need help packing anything? I’m great at folding lingerie just so you know.”
“Is that right?”
“Mhm,” he murmurs as he wraps his arms around me and places a kiss on my lips. “Come on, let’s get you over there.”
Suddenly anxious, I finish shoving things in my bag and zip it up. Asher takes my large suitcase while I grab my purse and a small tote bag and we begin the walk over to his room. It isn’t too far, but Asher holds my hand the whole way and keeps looking at me with a smile.
“How was it when Katie left?”
“It was okay, I guess. I’m sad she can’t stay longer, but I’m also looking forward to spending some time with you,” I admit with a shrug and shy smile.
His own smile widens and his eyes shine, “Me too.” When we reach his room, he holds out a hand, “Wait here.” He places my bag inside the door and takes the things from my hands and walks into the room. The door closes behind him automatically so I’m unable to see what he’s doing and I stand there awkwardly. He returns only moments later and before I can say a word he lifts me into his arms. “I need to carry you over the threshold like a proper husband.” My hands go around his neck and I laugh at the excited look on his face.
He sets me down and gives my rump a pat. “Alright, do you want to unpack anything or can it wait for a bit.”
“No rush. It can wait.”
“Great, I took the liberty of ordering us dinner and it arrived just before I went over to get you. I thought we could enjoy a quiet dinner in and maybe order a movie. Is that alright with you?”
Jitters flutter in my tummy, but I cover them with a nod, “Sounds perfect.”
He takes my hands and leads me further into his suite. The layout is like a small apartment. A full kitchen, small dining area, larger living room, two bedrooms and two bathrooms full of beach décor make up the space. It’s more than he needs not that that surprises me, but I’m still surprised he’s staying here instead of one of the homes on the mountain at the resort above ours or at a home on the new golf course that can be rented instead. They are sister resorts, the one above family friendly as opposed to this one. Rumor has it the private homes are amazing with their own private infinity pool, lavish interiors and generous space.
Leading me to the dining room table, I smile when I see not only covered dishes of food, but wine cooling in an ice bucket. He’s also somehow managed to get fresh aromatic flowers arranged at the center of the table. Lit taper candles also catch my attention. “I hope you like chicken codon bleu.” He starts removing the tops of several covered dishes. “I asked Katie and she said you aren’t a vegetarian so I figured chicken was safe. We also have salad and baby red potatoes.”
“It looks and smells great.” And it does. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until the aroma of the food started permeating the air as he revealed the dishes to me. My stomach rumbles in appreciation and Asher smiles having heard.
He holds out my chair for me and then moves to his own. Placing my napkin on my lap, I grab the wine and fill my glass then his. “Thank you,” he murmurs. I nod and we dig into our food. We’re quiet at first as we taste everything. It’s delicious.
“What other kinds of food do you like?” Asher asks me watching me with amusement, as I’m not shy about eating my fill.
“All kinds of things really. Mexican food, Italian food, Chinese, I’ll pretty much try anything. I like to cook too.”
“You do?”
“Yes, it’s one of my favorite things to do when I have the time. And I don’t just mean bake, like cookies and stuff. I mean dinner. Katie thinks it’s great and a lot of times will buy ingredients for certain dishes and then beg me to cook for her.”
“Wow, you must be good.”
I shrug modestly, “I’m not bad. I like it. It relaxes me after a long day at work. If I’m working through an issue with work, cooking can be one of my favorite ways to figure it out.”
“How so?”
“I think that when I open up my mind to the creativity needed for making certain dishes – like when I concoct my own recipes for things – it opens other creative avenues. I’ve solved many marketing mysteries while preparing dishes.”
“Marketing mysteries?” he asks puzzled.
“Oh. That’s what I do for a living. I’m CEO of a marketing firm in New York.”
“CEO? Wow.”
“My father left me the company when he died,” I admit not wanting to suggest I worked my way up. It’s never felt right suggesting that I’ve done so. Not that I haven’t worked my ass off, but would I be CEO of the company if it wasn’t for my father? Doubtful. “Reveal Design and Marketing. I love it. I love my job. Taking someone’s dream and help give it life through marketing or web design or branding, is an honor and privilege. Plus, I’m really good at it,” I admit with a laugh.
“That’s amazing.”
Shrugging, “It’s silly, but it’s always something I wanted to do. I remember holding up random items as a child and making up a jingle for it. My dad used to say I could convince anyone that they needed whatever it was I was selling. I came by it honestly though. I always loved going to the office with him and watching him work. When it came time to go to college, a degree in marketing and design was a no-brainer.”
“I bet your father loved that you followed in his footsteps.”
“He did, definitely, but you know what? He wouldn’t have cared if I decided not to. He always just wanted me to be happy. Still, I wish he had been there to see me graduate.”
“He sounds like he loved you very much.”
“I loved him very much and I miss him every single day.”
“What about your mother? Does she miss him too?”
“My mother passed away from cancer when I was young. I have a few memories of her – I remember her laugh, and her long golden hair. She would let me brush it sometimes.” I smile at the memory. “My father and I both were lost after she passed. I remember crying out for her in my sleep, confused about why she wasn’t there.” I gaze off, seeing her beautiful face in my mind, remembering how happy she and my dad were together. “It was just the two of us for a long time, so it wasn’t exactly easy when he remarried.”
“You don’t like your stepmother?”
“That’s an understatement.” I shake my head, “I’m sorry, I’m just going on and on. Tell me about your family.”
“I will, but first tell me why it’s an understatement.”
Wiping my mouth with my napkin, I set it next to my empty plate and sit back. “I’m not sure I know how to define it exactly. I think if I had to guess I would say she never cared for the relationship I had with my father. Almost as if seeking his affection was a competition. It wasn’t, but I always felt that she thought so – as odd as it sounds. I was kind to her and did my best to get along with her, for my father’s sake if nothing else, but there was always coldness surrounding her; a distance that I could never penetrate no matter how hard I tried. Eventually, I just gave up.”
“Did your father and her seem to get along well?”
“My father got along with everyone. But-”
“But?”
“I guess I’ve never really voiced this before, but I’m not sure if he truly loved her, or if it was more about companionship for him and a mother figure for me. I know that I never saw them behave together the way I saw my parent’s love for one another. A
nd that makes me sad. He deserved better.” Sighing, I look away from him, “And now, if she didn’t hate me before, she certainly does now.”
“What do you mean?”
“My father died of a heart attack while away on a business trip. It was a shock to say the least. Equally shocking was when we found out he left nearly everything to me, including his company, upon my graduation. He only provided her with the minimum required under the law. And his will was created after he married, so it isn’t like it was an old copy or something. Angelica, my stepmother, well I’ve never seen her so furious, so hateful. She gathered the board of directors and tried to convince them all I was too young, incapable and inexperienced to take over when I graduated, but she underestimated me. The company has done very well under me for the last few years.”
“That doesn’t surprise me one bit.” He stands and removes our plates from the table, “And your stepsister? I’m assuming given her actions with your ex that there’s no love lost between the two of you either?”
Knowing he remembers the story about my stepsister from when I told him about my broken engagement, I expect to feel embarrassment, but I don’t. “No. We never hit it off. She wasn’t interested in a relationship with my father or me. I think she missed her own father and didn’t want a replacement. All I know is that her father had a stroke and passed away a few years before her mother met my father.”
He returns to the table, “I hope you saved room for dessert.” He sets down another covered dish and unveils sopapilla’s with chocolate sauce.
“Wow,” I say in delight looking at the divine pastry, mouth already watering. “Dessert is my favorite,” I say and he laughs no doubt at the look on my face. Pushing the dish toward me indicating I should grab some, I don’t hesitate. Taking a sopapilla I break it in half dipping one end into the warm chocolate sauce. It’s divine and I moan in pleasure from the taste. “Oh my god,” I murmur.
“Good?” he asks, his voice husky making my eyes crash into his.
“So good,” I nod and watch transfixed as he dips his own pastry into the chocolate and takes a bite. His firm jaw moves slowly as if he’s savoring each bite. When his tongue flashes across his lower lip, my thighs clench at the sight.
Not one to be outdone, whether his actions were contrived or not, I dip the other half of my dessert into the chocolate and begin licking it off instead of putting it into my mouth. When I dare a look at Asher, his eyes are following every move my mouth makes, his own mouth parted. “Yum,” I murmur.
I’m not sure who moves first, but his mouth is on mine. His tongue lashing with my own and he kisses me like I’m the only dessert he ever cares to taste. Returning his intensity with my own, when he pulls away we’re both breathless. He licks his lips, “You’re right. Yum.” And with that, I’m pretty sure my panties catch on fire.
He gives me a light kiss on the forehead and moves the last of the dishes onto the room service cart and pushes it into the hall. When he returns, he holds a hand out to me, “How about you unpack, change into something comfortable and we can order a movie?”
“Sounds good.” He carries my suitcase into the bedroom and places it on the bed with a smile.
Grabbing the remote, he searches for the movie channels. “What movie do you want to watch?”
“You’re asking me?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess there’s just something weird about the movie star asking for my opinion on a movie.”
He laughs, “Can’t handle the pressure?”
“Hell no. What if I pick something you hate?”
“Not possible.”
“If you say so, but I still think you should choose.”
“Okay, well at least tell me what you’re in the mood for,” he laughs.
We settle on a comedy and while he picks one from the list available for purchase, I hang up clothes and place them in the dresser, my things alongside his feeling surprisingly intimate. There’s a double sink in the bathroom and I put my items on the clear side. When I’m finished I grab my pajamas after a bit of hesitation and go to the bathroom to change.
I wasn’t sure what to wear. I mean, did I want to be sexy? It’s not like I brought lingerie thinking I was going to hook up while on vacation, I removed it all from my suitcase before I left, so my options were limited aside from walking out naked and there was no way I was going to do that. I settled for pink sleep shorts that say ‘dream’ on the butt and a white camisole. Washing my face, I pull my hair up into a top knot and walk out into the bedroom, feeling vulnerable with a clean face and casual clothes and hair.
Asher turns toward me and his gaze glides over me from head to toe. I do the same to him, seeing he’s changed into sleep pants and nothing else. He walks across the room to me and I unabashedly watch his muscles flex with his movements. Asher reaches me and kisses me on the nose. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers. All my trepidation melts with two words.
Taking my hand, he leads me to the bed and waits for me to climb in. Following me, he starts the movie then reaches for me, pulling me against his chest and wrapping his arms around me. Pulling back for a moment, I look at him, “Wait a minute.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Well, I just realized all we did is talk about my family. I want to find out more about you and your family.”
He smiles, “You will. We’ve got time for that tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I tell him promising myself I will keep my mouth shut and let him talk tomorrow. I feel guilty for only talking about myself. He pulls me toward him once more and sighing deeply, I rest my head against his chest. We watch the movie together, me wrapped in his arms the whole time. Occasionally, I feel his lips in my hair pressing kisses to the top of my head. I feel comfortable, relaxed, adored, and safe. I love the way his chest feels when it rumbles in laughter under my cheek when he finds something on the screen funny. I smile and laugh too, each and every time, until eventually, the sound of his heartbeat lulls me to sleep.
The next morning, Asher wakes me and instructs me to dress in my swimsuit. I quickly put one on, throw on a cute matching cover up, slip on my flip-flops and we’re out the door. He insists I don’t need anything else. With a backpack thrown over his shoulder, he takes my hand and leads me outside to where a golf cart is waiting to take us to the lobby so we can catch a shuttle.
“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing today?” I ask feeling almost giddy about spending more time with him. Plus a surprise doesn’t hurt. I like surprises – the happy kind anyway.
He places a hand on my thigh squeezing, “You’ll see.”
His touch ignites my skin. I can feel every impression of his fingers against my leg and the heat from them moves straight up to the center of my legs. Last night, I woke up at one point to find our limbs entwined with my head still resting comfortably on his chest. I snuggled in closer and felt momentarily strange that we hadn’t done more than kiss before falling asleep together. I’m not naïve. I know that when he asked me to move into his room with him that his intentions are to share more than a few kisses with me here and there. Hell, I’m looking forward to it. I’m not sure if I feel grateful that we spent time getting more comfortable with one another last night, or disappointed we didn’t do more.
Pushing the thoughts away, I decide to enjoy the ride through the city as the shuttle takes us to my mystery destination. I can’t help but be fascinated by the town. Before arriving, I read a little about Cabo. While well-known by its tourists, including many in the entertainment industry, for its expanse of lovely resorts and spas and famous for its beaches, surfing, sport fishing, championship golf courses, and active night life, the rides into and through the area offers a study in contrast. In fact, the clash of pop culture and American influence with Mexican tradition provides intrigue and an interesting study. The people, whether within the resort or elsewhere are pleasant, warm, welcoming and helpful, while exuding strong Mexican culture and val
ues. Life appears simpler; people appear unhurried, easy going, more carefree. Yet, traffic is busy and more congested than one might expect enabling candid visuals.
Outside of the mainly touristy areas are closely cluttered, often wood shuttered, pastel to the occasional brightly colored adobe or cement block homes, sometimes roofless, capture my attention. What appears to be towels or similar laundry are often hanging over wood banisters. Similarly, laundry adorns clothes lines in backyards. As we get close to the tourist areas, what seems like unusual numbers of local people, stand on street corners or in front of local shops. Flea markets peer out between shops and on street corners. Occasional street vendors selling jewelry and handmade art can be seen. Enmeshed between traditional establishments and local art galleries are places like Senior Frogs, Cabo Wabo and Hard Rock Café. Tourists, distinguishable in both dress and hurried walk, carry their purchases in simple plastic bags. The view provides quite a visual experience.
It isn’t long before the shuttle pulls into a resort called the Rosé. Asher tells me that this resort is a sister to the one we are staying as he helps me step down from the van and ushers me through the resort lobby. We walk with intention and move directly through the open doors in the back of the vast lobby and emerge looking at a huge swimming pool. It’s then obvious that the hotel is shaped in a large U. The lobby area takes up the small vertical curve at the bottom of the U while the horizontal lines are comprised of rooms along both sides. The swimming pool is smack in the middle of it all, and runs the entire length of the resort – it’s huge. A restaurant sits astride one side. Steps both from the restaurant and the end of the pool lead to the beachfront.
Charming: A Modern Day Sexy Cinderella Story Page 10
