Cougar Mom

by Eve Langlais

  With the click of a button, the report on the screen changed to the video feed on the pool patio. His guest sat in the shade by the pool, reading, though not a fictional romance novel or some kind of thriller. She’d asked for newspapers, hoping the headlines would jar her memories.

  All media did for Hugo was give him a headache. The truth in news reporting had gone from a neutral stance that stuck to the facts to a complicated mix of supposition with bits taken out of context in many cases to sensationalize or push a particular opinion. He missed the days when things were reported straight with no embellishment.

  His phone rang, and he noted the unknown number. “Allo.” The French equivalent of hello always slipped past his lips when he answered, even though he’d moved from his home country a long time ago. The warrants for his arrest at the time might have hastened that departure.

  “I hear you’re thinking of installing an infinity hot tub. Any way I can finagle an invitation?”

  Recognizing the voice, he leaned back in his seat. “No need for code. The line is secure.”

  “Good.” The joviality turned businesslike. “Sorry to call out of the blue, but I saw something that concerns you.”

  “Must be serious since you called me direct.” Usually, they went through a layer of online shells to exchange messages of import.

  “I didn’t want to waste time. A hit has been put out on you.”

  “Really? I’m surprised, considering what happened the last time.” A man in his position made enemies. Taking care of them was just par for the course.

  “Short memories. You’ve been ruffling feathers again.”

  Hugo knew his friend couldn’t see his cold smile as he replied, “It is what I do best. What details can you give me?” He kept watching the video feed of the woman reading by his pool. Wearing the same swimsuit he’d found her in, but despite the heat outside, she’d yet to go for a swim.

  “The information is sparse. Anonymously posted. Few conditions attached.” Meaning the person didn’t care if the death appeared natural or not. “You dead, in exchange for ten million.”

  He whistled. “Someone isn’t messing around.” Nice to know he was worth a hefty chunk. “And no idea who put out the hit?”

  “Haven’t a clue. Whoever it is hid their tracks.”

  Not for long. He’d sic Gerome on them, right after Gerome freaked out for not having caught the dark web hit on Hugo’s life first. “Have they already found a taker?”

  “Yes. More than one, actually. It was posted as an open job, first to prove they did the deed gets the big bucks.”

  “A free-for-all?” He snorted. “Great.”

  “Thought you should know so you can increase security.”

  “Already did.” He didn’t mention that he’d done it for Ariel. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  He hung up and pondered the sudden hit on his life and the mystery woman. Coincidence? He didn’t believe in those. He wondered how far she’d take the charade.

  He was more eager than expected to find out.

  Placing a call to Francis, he relayed what he knew.

  There was some predictable swearing, and then a promise. “I will find out who placed the bounty. And then take that money from them with interest.”

  If anyone could do it, Francis could.

  “Anything on the mystery lady?”

  “Not yet. I’ve got a subroutine with her image going through airport arrival footage, but it will take a while.”

  “And it won’t help if she was on a cruise line or a private charter.” She had the look of someone affluent. The idea that she’d fallen off a yacht was a good one.

  “Did you get the strand of hair yet for a DNA filter?”

  “No.” Hugo didn’t mention that he could have. Surely, the pillow they’d shared would have had more than a few. “I’ll send Gerome in there to grab some.”

  “Are you sure you shouldn’t put her in a hotel? Especially given the bounty on your head?”

  Having her nearby put her at risk, and yet, putting her far away might be just as dangerous. He’d saved her from three accidents now. Either it was an elaborate ruse to make him feel responsible for her, or she genuinely should fear for her life.

  “I’ll handle any threats that come knocking.”

  A bold statement, given he still stared at the video feed of her lying by the pool. A beautiful woman. A gorgeous liar.

  If he went in with his eyes open, she had no power over him.

  He would get no answers staying away. That was the excuse he used to justify joining her by the pool a moment later.

  Chapter Nine

  Hugo stood by her seat—loomed, actually. Casting a shadow over her, not that Ariel sat in the sun. She’d started in the shade, and a good thing too, considering she turned pink even out of direct UV rays. Perhaps her inability to tolerate daylight explained her nocturnal swim. She should have known with the red hair that she’d burn easily in the sun.

  He, on the other hand, bronzed like a god. Was built like one, too.

  In his forties at least, Hugo kept fit, the tone of his body firm without the paunch other men sometimes developed with age—another strange thing she knew but couldn’t explain. He was broad through the shoulder, thick in the arms. His hips were lean, his man parts encased in tight-fitting black undershorts that left nothing to the imagination.

  “I think you forgot to put on your pants,” she remarked, turning her gaze to his face rather than his crotch.

  “Not forgotten, given I don’t usually swim in them.”

  “Do you always parade around in your underpants or is this just for my benefit?” she asked, her tone a little frosty. He’d spent the night with her, cradling her close. But he’d fled as she slept, ignoring her until now when he showed up wearing practically nothing. Did he think she would be so grateful at his kindness that she’d spread her legs for him?

  “What are you talking about? These are swim shorts.”

  “Did you get them a few sizes too small?”

  “Small isn’t a word usually used to describe me,” he drawled.

  The reminder drew her gaze. She tried not to stare but then couldn’t help it because he reacted, started to thicken, the size of him impressive.

  He dragged the towel from his shoulder and dangled it in front.

  Modesty now? A tad too late. How dare he conceal the view? Surely, looking was allowed.

  Perhaps she shouldn’t be too hasty. Maybe a good shagging was precisely what she needed. No. No sex. No flirting. She couldn’t get involved with anyone until she knew her status.

  “You going to join me for a swim?” he asked, distracting her from the urge to yank the towel from him.

  Swim, not screw. Definitely not on her list of things she wanted to do. “No, thanks. I’m afraid I’ll burn if I do.”

  “I’m sure we can wrangle some sunscreen for that.”

  “Gerome already brought me some and told me to wear it. More like ordered, and I’m pretty sure he would have held me down and slathered it on himself if I didn’t agree.”

  “Gerome can have a,”—he cleared his throat—“certain overprotectiveness regarding those he considers his charges.”

  “Protecting me from skin cancer. I guess I should be more grateful. But it feels greasy,” she said with a grimace, holding out her arm.

  “That means it’s guarding like it’s supposed to.”

  She reached for the bottle and offered it. “You should probably use some, too. That sun is vicious.”

  “No need.” His teeth flashed as he laughed. “I live for this kind of weather.”

  He walked off; the back of him just as nice as the front. Given her situation, it seemed all kinds of wrong to lust after him. What if she were married or in a committed relationship? It would still be cheating if she didn’t remember.

  She glanced at her left hand. No tan line indicating a ring had been there. But that didn’t mean anything.

  A splash o
f water caught her attention, and from the ripple, she saw his body streaking underwater, powerful flexes of his legs and strong pulls of his arms bringing him almost the length of the pool before he surfaced at the far end.

  She leaned back and pretended interest in the tablet in her lap. Asking for newspapers was met with chuckles from the butler, Gerome. Apparently, Mr. Laurentian did his part to not pollute the environment. He banned the purchase of single-use bottles and would only buy alcohol that came in the returnable kind. Bought his produce fresh from the market. No canned goods.

  That meant no actual newspapers but something better, a tablet with a web browser and an internet connection.

  The first thing she’d done was to do a search for news of a missing woman in the Bahamas.

  Lots of hits on the search engine—try nine million four hundred and forty thousand returns on that criteria—but nothing in the previous few days or even the last month. How far back should she look? She had no idea how long she’d been missing. When the searches returned nothing of use, she glanced at the world news, seeing if any of the shock headlines jolted anything loose.

  A politician caught in a scandal.

  Murmurs of war.

  Even more of peace.

  Celebrity scandal.

  All of it seemed familiar and yet not at the same time. Odd how her mind picked what it chose to recall.

  Like she remembered that she hated cinnamon on anything, so when Gerome offered her some for her waffle that morning, she had practically thrown herself over it instead of saying a polite, “no.”

  Triggered by a spice. But she couldn’t have said why.

  Her gaze rose from the tablet in time to see her host doing another lap, choosing to swim on the surface now with long strokes and flutter kicks. Did she know how to swim? The bathing suit implied that she did, but what if she jumped into the pool and sank? Pierrot had mentioned the possibility that she’d fallen off a boat, meaning it was possible she couldn’t swim.

  It would be a farce of epic proportions if she were to drown in a backyard pool after everything she’d survived.

  Ariel never even realized how long she stared until Hugo resurfaced on his return lap, a wet god streaming water from his flesh as he used his hands on the edge of the pool to hoist himself up. From this angle, he looked bare below the waist. That V really wanted her to follow it down.

  “You sure you won’t join me?” He must be part devil, given how he tempted.

  She admitted her concern. “What if I can’t swim?”

  “Then stand up, and you won’t drown.” He pushed from the edge and stood in the pool, showing the water hitting him at mid-chest.

  Ariel felt the heat in her cheeks. Way to look stupid at her age. “I don’t know if I should.”

  “Come on, the water is nice. Maybe you’ll remember something if you submerge yourself.”

  A good point, and she was being a coward. Was the old her scared of trying things? Or adventurous? Did it matter? She could choose to be however she liked.

  And she’d like to be the type of person who at least tried. She put down the tablet and rose, the bathing suit she wore her own, the wrap something found in the closet, presumably left behind by a guest. And by guest, she could only assume ex-girlfriend or paramour, given the sheer nature of it.

  She shed it and stepped from the shadowed awning. The merciless sun licked at her skin, and she hesitated. As if to give her a reprieve, a fluffy cloud blocked the rays.

  Hugo watched her while floating, so only his face was visible, the rest of his body underwater.

  “No excuses now,” he cajoled.

  She hesitated, feet frozen in place. Terror filled her. And yet, it shouldn’t. People swam every day. She could stand up at any time, and Hugo was there. Perfectly safe. So, why did her heart beat so fast it almost came out of her chest?

  Her mouth was dry, and her steps slow as she neared the edge.

  Hugo spoke softly. “Nothing bad will happen.”

  He sounded surer than she felt.

  Her toes curled on the tile of the pool’s edge, knowing she stood close enough that if he looked up, he’d be able to tell if she shaved.

  Instead, he pushed from the wall and floated on his back, eyes closed. “It’s relaxing.”

  It did look very nice.

  She dipped her toe. Not hot, not cold. Taking a breath, she ignored her hammering pulse and sat on the edge and dangled her feet in. She noticed a lack of stairs on either end. No ladder, either. Did he expect everyone who swam to climb out?

  Then again, it was his pool.

  “You’re halfway there.”

  “Give me a second,” she grumbled, staring down and getting her panic under control.

  She must have taken too long, because he suddenly surfaced right in front of her, a water beast spraying droplets that made her screech. “Argh!”

  “Way to overreact, Ariel. It’s just water.”

  “Which is very wet,” she said, lifting her chin.

  “No shit.” He laughed, which might be why she didn’t expect him to suddenly grab her around the waist and drag her into the pool.

  He immediately released her, and just as she feared, she hit the surface face-first and floundered. Panicked a second too before her feet touched bottom. She stood, hair streaming in her face, aware that he was laughing.

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “You’d have thought I was killing you. God, I hope the security cameras caught that.”

  “You’re evil!” Through wet hair, she glared at Hugo.

  Unrepentant, he grinned. “Don’t blame me. You were the one taking too long.”

  “I was getting in on my own terms.”

  “You going to be one of those women that whines because I messed up her hair and makeup?” he cajoled.

  “I am not wearing makeup.” The thin coat of mascara didn’t count.

  “Then why are you whining?”

  “Because you manhandled me.”

  He waded closer and purred, “Do you know how many women would like to be in your position right now?”

  The very idea caused a hot spurt of jealousy. “I am not just any woman.”

  “You’re right, you’re not, Ariel, mermaid of the sea and brave explorer.”

  “I don’t know if I’m brave. I was terrified to come in.” She had a vague recollection of water making her choke and bobbing for her life like a cork. But only a flash that didn’t last.

  “You’re in now. How do you feel?”

  She rolled a shoulder. “Okay, I guess.”

  “Good, then let’s find out if swimming is one of your many skills.” He arced off, part porpoise in another life, obviously. He began to undulate in the water, and both his arms rose in a sweeping arc before he plunged.

  It looked difficult.

  She went more tentatively, the fear of drowning gone, replaced by a worry that she’d look dumb in front of him. Although, why she cared…

  She didn’t care, but she would admit that he had a point. Perhaps doing what she’d done the night she lost her memory would jog something loose.

  In moments, she was swimming too, still clueless about her identity, but finding a certain relaxation in the exercise. She joined Hugo in doing laps—stroke, stroke, breathe, kick, kick, turn. She noticed when she surfaced and swam with her head above the water in a smooth glide that the far end of the pool had a waterfall feature currently undergoing some kind of maintenance. It had tools lying around the base of it, and an electrical cord strung across the patio. Not exactly the safest thing.

  The sun returned, beating down viciously, and she cut her swim short. Maybe she’d come back tonight and swim by the light of the stars.

  Reaching the edge of the pool, she braced her hands on the side to heave herself only to have Hugo offer a hand.

  She glanced up and saw Hugo with a towel slung around his neck.

  “Let me help. I don’t usually have guests over for swims, so I skipped sta
irs and ladders for more lap space.”

  It seemed petty to refuse, and she didn’t want to grunt and groan trying to beach herself on the deck. She clasped his hand and squeaked as he pulled her from the water. It happened so fast, she couldn’t help but stumble.

  Into him.

  He caught her, arm sliding around her waist, his body bracing hers, close enough that the hairs on his chest brushed her flesh. Startled, she glanced up at him.

  He stared right back. Intent on her. “Slippery when wet.”

  Wetter than he could imagine. She didn’t move away immediately but rather basked in the presence of him. The strength. The virility that oozed from his flesh. She wanted to run her hands down the thick biceps, stroke over his chest and lower.

  The sexual tension between them thickened, and his eyes remained open and fixed on hers as his head lowered.

  He was going to kiss her. It would be heated and lead to sex. Of that, she was sure. But she couldn’t allow it.

  She shoved out of his embrace. “Thank you. I really should get dried off.” She almost ran for the stack of towels on a table and ignored his chuckle.

  She wrapped one around herself rather than dry off, hiding any revealing flushes of her body. His was now secured around his waist as well, the fluffiness acting as camouflage.

  “So, you can swim. What else can you do, little mermaid?”

  “I can tell you that your nickname has a patriarchal tone to it that I don’t appreciate.” Her brow arched.

  He laughed. “And we learn even more. Ariel is a feminist.”

  “I’m glad you find this amusing.”

  “You’re proving to be interesting, especially in what your mind chooses to reveal and not.”

  “Such as?”

  “Let’s start with your accent. The way you burr the words indicates a possible southern United States upbringing.”

  “What accent?” She didn’t hear it.

  “You don’t always unleash it, but when you do, it’s unmistakable. I don’t suppose you have an urge to call everyone ‘sugar?’”

  Actually, she bit her tongue on darling more often than she was ready to admit. “No, I don’t want to call anyone sugar. And just so you know, the name I’d like to use for you isn’t that sweet.”