Jolie gulped, licked her lips and decided that she was going to go to Florida. She was going to make this a part of her job. And maybe, there was some truth in what Margaret was saying, and seven days wasn’t a very long time at all. It would pass her by in the blink of an eye.
Chapter 2
Brandon Calloway had his hands stuck in the pockets of his pants. He was standing at the edge of the beach, surveying his guests and his property. The resort was doing well, and as he scanned his territory, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction.
He had spent the better part of the past 25 years, making good investments and slowly, one property at a time, he had managed to build an empire for himself. An empire big enough to boast of three resorts in Florida, four in California and a new one under construction in Hawaii.
He had started from nothing. A small B&B that his grandmother had left him in Cedar Key. A property that his two siblings had washed their hands off the moment the Will was read. Brandon had bought it off his brothers for a meagre sum and spent the whole summer fixing the house. For three years, he had greeted every guest himself, mastered the art of a good breakfast in its kitchen and saved every penny so he could invest in a second property.
Which, he did. And then in a third, and then the fourth one was a resort, and the rest was history. It was the same story he had told the reporter who had come to interview him from Forbes magazine. He was being featured in the magazine that month in the article titled ‘Five Billionaires under Sixty’ and now he couldn’t believe he had come this far.
It had taken him twenty-five years, and now he was 52 and his beard had just started greying…but he had made it! He had built a legacy for his children.
What children? Brandon tried to not shake his head at that thought, but ended up gritting his teeth instead. He had used up all his energy and brain space towards the business, and building this legacy and, not once in all those years had he stopped to wonder who he was building it for.
Women had come and gone, but Brandon had remained, steadfast and true to his ambitions. Like an old film reel, the faces of all the women he had short lived relationships with, flipped through his mind’s eye. None of them were good enough, none of them were partner-quality and, most importantly, he had never fallen in love.
“You’ve never given one of them a chance. Two weeks isn’t long enough for you to fall in love, Bran. It doesn’t work that way,” his best friend, Marty, had said to him six years ago. But where was he supposed to find the time? Two weeks at a time, was all he had, to dedicate his energy to a woman and then the moment they started interfering with his work-he was out of there.
Now, at 52, after having achieved everything he had set out to achieve in his life, he felt the pang. That pull in the pit of his belly. Who was he going to leave all this to?
He met Alice in Boston, on a business trip. She was the manager at the hair salon that was recommended to him by one of his assistants, and Brandon was in dire need of a haircut.
Now when he looked back on that day, on that week of his trip to Boston, he couldn’t help but wonder if the result of that trip was a direct consequence of one of his “moods.” He’d been thinking hard about his legacy, about what Marty had told him six years ago and, when he saw Alice, he decided that she would do.
Alice was much younger than him, in her late thirties with some child bearing years still left in her. He knew he had caught her eye too. She hovered around him a little longer. Offered to cut his hair herself, instead of designating one of the other hairdressers to him. Within fifteen minutes, he had asked her on a date. Within a day, they had slept together twice and he had extended his trip. Within a week, he had decided that he was in love and asked her to marry him. They flew to Vegas, and his two assistants stepped in as witnesses to the marriage. For the first time in his life, Brandon had felt like he had taken charge of his personal life.
That was three months ago, and between then and now, he had seen his new bride no more than three times.
Alice was quick to quit her job at the salon, and find a brand new townhouse in the swanky part of Boston. Brandon’s contribution to the setting up of the house, had been nothing more than transporting his trunks of books from his home in Cedar Key.
Alice didn’t even seem to mind that she rarely ever saw her new husband, which should have come as a relief to him. Living with another person, dealing with the daily nuances of a relationship…were not things that he was experienced in. However, he couldn’t help but wonder if this had been the right decision. They hadn’t even discussed children, he didn’t even know if Alice wanted them. Sometimes, he even forgot her last name, and he hadn’t even asked her any questions about why Alice’s daughter hadn’t turned up for their wedding in Vegas.
Brandon slipped his phone out of the pocket of his pants and stared at the bundle of emails and messages on the screen. None of them were from his wife. In a split second, he decided that he needed to make this work. He needed to give this marriage and this relationship a fair shot, it was about time that he did.
Chapter 3
Jolie decided that she would rather spend the rest of the day in her room. The swimming pool area had become too noisy now, and the private beach that the resort offered had started looking crowded. Her room was going to be the only place where she could get some peace and quiet, she figured. But, before anything else, another frozen margarita was in order.
She weaved around the deck chairs of fellow vacationers as she walked towards the Tiki bar set up at the edge of the pool. Her satin cover-up trailed behind her, and the book she had abandoned reading earlier, dangled from her hand.
At the bar, a man was sitting on a stool with his back turned to her and she sat down beside him.
“Another one of those frozen margaritas you made for me earlier, Juan,” she said with a sigh to the bartender. The only people she had any form a conversation with, in the past two days of staying here, had been the bartenders. She’d developed a working relationship with all of them and they seemed to like her too.
“If you liked the frozen margarita, you should give the limoncello mojito a try,” the man sitting beside her said, swiveling on the stool and turned to Jolie. None of the guests had dared to speak to her before this, and she figured it had to do with the vibe she usually gave off.
His voice had startled her too. It was a deep soothing voice that seemed to pierce her soul and it took her a few moments to re-adjust herself.
He was staring at her now, with a half-grin framing his face. She eyed him, like she did everybody these days. Unconsciously judging them for their fashion sense. He was in a thin white polo shirt, and tan chinos. His shoes were fashionable-enough leather sandals, and he had dark sunglasses dangling from the V of his neck. Through the gap, she caught sight of a dusting of dark curly hair and her immediate impression of the man, was that he was extremely masculine. Even though, her best estimate was that he was at least double her age.
She trailed her gaze up to his face finally, and Jolie had to clench her jaw to stop herself from blushing. The man was unbelievable handsome. His face was angular with a strong jaw. He had a dark beard with flecks of gray, that was neatly trimmed. It added a powerful quality to his features, just like his eyes did. Green and small and sparkly. The more he stared at her, the more certain she was that her cheeks were going to flush.
It wasn’t often that one look at a man could have this kind of a de-stabilizing effect on her.
“I’m not a big fan of mojitos, the mint leaves get stuck in my teeth and I have a hard time getting them out,” she found herself saying. The moment she had finished that sentence, she felt extremely foolish. It was too much information that he didn’t need to know. But the man smiled widely at her instead and then jumped off his stool and walked casually around the bar counter, joining Juan who was already in the process of preparing her margarita.
“No mint leaves then. This is a homemade limoncello recipe, perfected over the years after
several failed attempts. I can guarantee that you’ll like it,” the man said and Jolie watched in shock as he started fiddling around with the bottles behind the counter, until he extracted a big corked glass jar of what looked like the liqueur he was talking about.
“Are you Brandon Calloway?” she blurted out, before she could stop herself. Of course she knew of him. She also knew that he owned this resort. Margaret had been firm in mentioning that she wanted Jolie to stay in the best resort on the West Coast for her forced vacation. She just hadn’t expected to bump into the hotelier himself. And she definitely hadn’t expected him to look like this.
He smiled at her, as he poured his desired mixture into a shaker and started shaking the cocktail himself. Word on the street was that Brandon Calloway was a very hands-on guy, but this was not the extent of service she had expected from him. She watched his biceps tighten as he poured the drink into a glass and then stick a straw with an umbrella in it.
“My secret’s out,” he said, looking her straight in the eye again, in the same way that he made her uncomfortable before. This time, Jolie couldn’t stop her cheeks from flushing, and she pulled the glass closer to herself.
“Thank you, that was not necessary,” she said, and watched as he walked around the counter and stood beside her. She could tell that he was trying to urge her into taking a sip.
She did, and the flavors of the drink burst in her mouth. The citrus zing overwhelmed her tongue and her throat and she could also tell that he had been generous with the white rum and sparkling wine. The effect the drink had on her was heady, like a whip and an unconscious smile took over her face.
“Do you approve?” he asked, in that same deep voice that made her nervous, and Jolie couldn’t do anything other than nod her head. She charged ahead and took another sip and kept smiling.
“I love it. Probably the best mojito I’ve ever had,” she said and Brandon was smiling too.
“Wait till you try my Mai Tai,” he said and Jolie smiled some more.
This vacation wasn’t looking so bad anymore, especially given the fact that a handsome stranger was smiling directly at her, and offering to make her cocktails. Jolie tucked in some stray strands of her red locks behind her ears and was already wondering what this could lead to, until her eyes fell on the thick gold ring on his finger. Brandon Calloway was a married man.
Chapter 4
He didn’t know her name yet, but from first impressions, he could tell that she was a fashionable woman and, more importantly, she was half his age. Yet, Brandon couldn’t help but allowing his gaze to travel to her breasts. She was wearing a sea-green bikini with a gold ring in the center of her small, firm breasts, which was holding the flimsy material together. A silky cream colored kimono-like coverup fell over her shoulders and revealed her bikini entirely. Longish red hair, made slightly wavy by the weather, dangled around her slender shoulders.
She had pale smooth skin, a peaches and cream sort of complexion and, instantly, Brandon knew that she was from the east coast. You couldn’t live in this part of the country and maintain that complexion and, besides, her strong New York accent gave it away.
She was taking small sips of the mojito now, while she sat on the stool beside him and he could sense her piercing blue eyes following his every movement. For a young girl her age, she had a sort of strength in her personality. Everything she did or said inspired confidence, her speech was measured and there was no frivolousness about her. She had the sensibility of a strict professor about her, except that she looked nothing like one.
Brandon tried to figure out what it was about this girl that made his body tighten like this. He was surrounded by beautiful women in bikinis on a daily basis, it wasn’t an unusual sight in any of his resorts, and, yet, for some reason, he couldn’t help but stare at this girl’s endlessly long pale legs. Like he was seeing a near-naked woman for the first time.
“What’s your name?” he blurted out, like a gawking giddy teenager and a smile tugged the corners of her lips.
“All you have to do is look at your guest register, don’t you?” she said and took another sip of her drink.
“I can, but I’d rather you gave up the information willingly,” Brandon said and she flipped locks of her red hair over her shoulder. He watched her movements, sensing the movement in his pants too. He knew he had to watch himself. Gone were the days when he could just brazenly fuck a woman who caught his fleeting attention. He was a married man now, and he had made up his mind to make it work with Alice.
“Jo,” she said and he allowed the word to sink into his brain.
When his gaze dropped to her breasts again, he noticed that her nipples had pebbled under the fabric of her bikini top. Was that because of her physical reaction to him, or did it have something to do with the cool breeze that was now beginning to blow around them.
“I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay here, Jo,” he said, and she leaned towards him slightly. She had her legs crossed on the stool and now, while he sat facing her, their knees brushed gently. Neither of them made a move to remedy the situation. He had felt the electric current shoot down his spine from the touch. He knew he was asking for trouble. The most sensible thing to do would be to just walk away and get on the first flight to Boston.
“Not as much as I’m enjoying it now,” she said and Brandon noticed the sparkle in her eyes. “Because of the mojito, I mean,” she was quick to add and he saw the way the tops of her cheeks turned red. She lowered her gaze from him and looked away.
Brandon had been drinking a shot of Single Malt, and he swirled it around in his glass. The ice cubes tinkled and he took a sip.
“You’re from the east coast? New York?” he spoke, and Jo looked up at him again. She had controlled her flushing cheeks by now, and her blue eyes had gotten a little wider.
“My secret’s out,” she smiled and he smiled too.
Every word they were exchanging right now was a game. It was all for bloody show, he could hear himself thinking. There was only one thing on his mind, and he had a feeling that she was thinking the same thing. He was desperate to touch her.
“Are you alone?” he asked her, noticing the way his voice dropped by several decibels. Jo arched her eyebrows at him and parted her luscious pale, pink lips to speak.
“Are you?” she asked and Brandon clenched his jaw.
Technically, he was, right then. But in the larger scheme of things, he wasn’t. He had a wife. A new bride, a woman who was probably under the impression that he was hard at work right about now.
“Yes,” he said and he caught Jo’s gaze fall on his gold band. He took a quick sip of his whisky.
When she looked up at him again, the smile had disappeared from her face. It was replaced by an icy coldness and she tipped her glass of mojito quickly down her throat. Brandon felt himself harden in his pants, as he watched the gentle curve of her neck, followed the path of the drink down her narrow throat. He wished he could reach over and nibble at her skin, taste the salty sweetness of her touch.
Jo plonked the empty glass down on the counter, and slipped her long legs off the stool.
“Have a nice day, Mr. Calloway and thanks for the drink. Juan, please charge it to my room,” she said, in the most casual way possible, and then turned from him and walked away.
Brandon felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He watched her walking away. The swing of her ass, the fluttering of her cover up, the book dangling from her hand. Her red hair was swinging too as she walked at an unhurried but determined pace and Brandon knew that he had to have her. He wouldn’t be able to go back to Boston, if he didn’t get this desperate need out of his system.
Chapter 5
Jolie had been ordering her meals to her room since she arrived at the resort, but this evening, she decided to walk down to the dining room for it. The problem was that she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Brandon Calloway. Her skin tingled with the thought of feeling his beard scratching her lip
s as they kissed. She knew she wanted him, despite the fact that he was wearing a wedding band on his finger. She couldn’t remember the last time she had wanted a man this badly.
He exuded power and intelligence and something told her that he would be amazingly hot in bed. Her imagination had been running wild all day since she met him, and she just couldn’t stop herself from wanting to see him again.
So, she changed into a black bodycon dress, did her hair up in a messy bun at the back of her head and spent some extra time on her makeup.
By the time she had arrived at the dining room, dinner was already in the process of being served to the guests.
She hadn’t spotted Brandon when she first walked in, and instead walked across the room towards the large bay windows at the back where she sat down at a small table overlooking the private beach.
A server turned up at her side within minutes, and she picked out the special for the night and ordered a glass of the limoncello mojito. She was still carrying the book, but didn’t have the concentration to actually read it. Around her, couples were having romantic dinners or families with noisy kids were trying to get through the meal.
Jolie caught sight of a young mother trying to spoon feed her daughter and for a moment, she allowed her mind to wander to her own mother. Had she ever done that? It was hard to imagine her mother bothering to spoon feed her.
“I was hoping you’d order another one of the mojitos,” Brandon’s distinctive deep voice startled Jolie out of her thoughts and she was a little embarrassed that he’d caught her thinking about her mother.
She looked up to find him standing over her, and it was now that she noticed how tall he actually was. Brandon was smiling, his green eyes glittering in the dim chandelier light of the dining room. He had changed into tailored dark pants and a powder blue shirt with the buttons casually left open at his neck. He had his hands thrust into the pockets of his pants and his Rolex glittered on his wrist.
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