Something to Believe In

by Kimberly Van Meter

  Carys poked her head out, a towel wrapped around her body. “How else am I supposed to learn what the heck is going on?”

  “You have a promising career in espionage, now go get in the shower before you lose out and your dad and I get in.”

  “Ew.” Carys wrinkled her nose and disappeared behind the door.

  Lindy chuckled. That kid was a handful but the coolest. Now back to the issue at hand. “How am I supposed to break this news to Lilah?” she said, lowering her voice this time. “I mean, don’t you think we have a responsibility to tell her?”

  Gabe looked as unhappy about the information as Lindy felt. “Yes, but like you said, the news isn’t going to go over well. Here’s something, though, and I know I’m going to be the unpopular vote here...Lilah isn’t a child. She made choices of her own free will. And even though she wasn’t mentally stable at the time, she’s different now. Before she got sick, did you ever worry about who she was dating?”

  “No. Lilah could handle herself just fine,” Lindy answered, mulling over Gabe’s point. “But that’s just it...she’s not the same as she was. And Lora said she’s still fragile. I’d hate to blow off Lora’s concern and realize she was right. You know? The stakes are just too high.”

  Gabe pulled her into his arms and she cuddled into him. “You’re right. But at some point we have to start putting our faith back into Lilah and trust that she’s well enough to handle life. She doesn’t want a bunch of babysitters for the rest of her life.”

  “God, that’s an awful thought,” Lindy murmured against the solid strength of his chest. She inhaled the sharp, citrus scent of his favorite cologne and for a moment simply enjoyed the feeling of being safe and secure. Her contentment at being snuggled against the man she loved faded as her thoughts turned to the growing problems facing her family. “You know Pops is getting worse by the day. We have to figure out how to keep him safe without compromising the future of Larimar. The other day Heath found him in the shop trying to fire up the welding torch but he’d forgotten how to turn it on—thank God—but that could’ve been bad.” She exhaled deeply and groaned. “I hate dementia. My Pops is disappearing.”

  Gabe drew a deep breath but otherwise remained silent. She knew there was little he could say that would ease the pain in her heart over Pops but she appreciated his quiet support. She glanced up. “Why are you so amazing?” she asked.

  “Because I have to be to be worthy of you.”

  She smiled and rose on her toes to kiss him soundly on the lips. “Keep making comments like that and I will be forced to drag you to the bedroom.”

  Gabe shocked her by scooping her into his arms with a devilish grin. “You won’t have to drag me. I’ll always go willingly.”

  She blushed and curled her hand around the back of his neck and murmured, “Let’s stop wasting time. Carys will be out of the shower in five minutes.”

  They disappeared behind the bedroom door and for a short interlude, Lindy blissfully forgot about the unfortunate news awaiting her twin sister.

  * * *

  LILAH SLIPPED THE KEY into the lock and pushed the door open of Heath’s childhood home and walked in.

  The small cottage had been completely rebuilt from the shack it’d been when Heath was growing up, and now it was a gem with hardwood floors and an open floor plan that was pretty enough to land on the pages of some Bay Area magazine featuring small homes with big appeal.

  “Nice,” observed Justin. “And where are we?”

  “My soon-to-be brother-in-law Heath’s place but since he lives at Larimar now with my sister, it pretty much sits empty. I come here sometimes to paint and Heath doesn’t mind. However, I’m more interested in the bedroom than the veranda at the moment,” she said, pulling Justin toward the master bedroom.

  “Lead the way,” Justin said, grinning.

  They laughed and tumbled to the bed, sending pillows bouncing to the floor. Lilah heard a muffled rip as Justin caught her sarong.

  “Oops,” he said, looking chagrined as she wiggled free of the thin material.

  She met his mouth with voracious hunger, pushing his shirt from his shoulders. “It’s cheap. I can buy a new one,” she said against his mouth. “Clothes. Off. Now.”

  He helped her pull his shirt free, followed by his shorts. His erection bobbed free and Lilah didn’t hesitate to curl her hands around his warm length. He sucked in a tight breath and groaned as she palmed him without reservation and inhibition. With Justin she felt free, not locked away inside herself, watching the world from the sidelines as it passed her by. A ravenous hunger raged in her and her touch became more insistent, more demanding. “I want to feel you inside me,” she said, arching as Justin slipped her nipple into his mouth and sucked the pebbled tip, teasing the sensitive skin until she writhed beneath him.

  His touch was something she craved, needed like air, and she refused to give up even though she should.

  Justin’s touch became fevered, desperate and she understood his urgency because it rode her nearly as hard. Within moments she was urging him to push himself deep inside her, plunging into that hot core so she could lose herself in the feel of being taken and devoured by the man she couldn’t get enough of.

  “Your skin is like smooth honey,” he murmured against her rounded shoulder, pausing to nip at the soft skin. “I could touch you a thousand times and never tire of it.”

  “Sweet talker,” she gasped as he entered her. She wasted no time in wrapping her legs around his torso, pulling him closer, burying him deeper. A low moan escaped her mouth as he pumped into her, grinding against her pubic bone until she shuddered at the carnal pressure. “Yesss, Justin, yesss!” she cried out, clutching at his back as he moved above her. Justin’s face was screwed into an intense expression as he tried to hold back but she clenched her internal muscles and his eyes popped open as they both hurtled toward a bone-melting orgasm that had each gasping for breath, chests heaving as they tried to find their senses again.

  It was a long-drawn-out moment before either could speak. The sound of their breathing filled the room as sweat covered their bodies from the oppressive humidity that the languidly twirling ceiling fan couldn’t hope to abate. Lilah’s nipples, still hardened to tiny points, tingled as the last rush of sensation from her orgasm slowly receded. She languidly turned her head to regard Justin who was still breathing as if he’d run a marathon and looked dazed by what had just happened between them. He met her gaze and a slow, cocky grin teased the corners of his mouth as he said, “You know I’m totally going to want to do that again and again and again. We might be here all night.”

  She giggled and rolled to her stomach. “I don’t have any plans,” she said, but added coyly, “Do you think you can handle me all night?”

  Justin rolled to his knees and quickly straddled her, bending to nuzzle her ear. The soft touch of his mouth moving along the sensitive shell, as well as the weight of his still-hard member dragging against her backside, made her shudder with want and need. “Darling, stamina has never been my problem,” he whispered. “By the end of the evening, you’ll be ruined for any other man.”

  She sucked in a tight breath. Oh, baby, she bit back the words, he’d already done that.

  But that was something he didn’t need to know.

  Lilah laughed softly as Justin’s mouth traveled the ridge of her spine. “We’ll see,” she teased, casting him a daring look, “if you can rise to the occasion.”

  His
grin deepened. “Challenge accepted, sweet island girl. Challenge accepted!”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  JUSTIN SAVORED THE FRESH coconut as he and Lilah watched the waves roll in and out with the tide and the sun sink into the horizon. The house overlooked the beach, providing a breathtaking vista as they took a break from their exhausting and voracious bouts of carnal activity. They were both nude, completely comfortable in each other’s presence like an old married couple with hot bodies and young minds, and Justin wasn’t immune to his own surprise that he’d never been happier.

  It was as near to heaven as Justin could imagine.

  “Tell me about your life in New York,” Lilah said, scooping a spoonful of coconut and glancing at him. “I bet it’s a lot different than here.”

  “It’s colder in the winter and perhaps not quite as humid in the summer,” he answered with a smile before adding, “I tend to wear more clothes.”

  She laughed. “I should hope so.”

  “Well, it snows a lot in New York so it wouldn’t be prudent to go around in the buff.”

  “Okay, joker. Seriously, tell me about Justin Cales when he’s home in his own environment.”

  “You really want to know? It’s not very interesting, I promise you.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.”

  He sighed when he realized she wasn’t going to let it go. He supposed this moment was going to come eventually, but he’d wanted to preserve his connection with Lilah for as long as possible. Besides, he didn’t have much more time left on the island and he wanted to squeeze every last moment with her into that remaining time frame. Somehow telling her of his life back in New York seemed a contamination of something perfect and pure.

  “Suddenly you’re shy?” she teased. “It can’t be that bad.”

  He offered a chagrined laugh. If she only knew the full extent. His situation seemed something out of a TV movie of the week, not someone’s real life. How many fathers openly manipulated their sons for political gain? Actually, probably a few. But he never imagined his own father would sink so low.

  “Well, I grew up privileged, I guess you could say,” he began, wondering how much to share, how much to censor. “Which came with the usual perks. Private school, tutors when I needed them, vacations in the South Hamptons. God, are you sure you want to hear this? I’m embarrassed just hearing the words fall from my mouth.”

  “Why would you be embarrassed of your upbringing? There’s nothing wrong with being well-off. I mean, I know it’s considered bad form these days to admit to that, as if being poor is some noble thing, but trust me, I’ve seen plenty of poverty here on the island and there’s nothing noble about a child starving because his parents can’t afford food. It’s no more a poverty-stricken child’s fault that he’s poor than it is a rich kid’s fault that he’s been born into wealth. It’s how you handle yourself that matters.”

  “Ah, yeah, that’s true,” Justin said, hiding his dismay at her clearheaded assessment. He hadn’t always handled himself with any discernible level of responsibility. Sometimes he’d acted the epitome of spoiled, rich and selfish. But he sure as hell didn’t want Lilah to know that. It made him distinctly uncomfortable when he realized that Lilah’s respect for him would likely plummet if she knew how he’d been in the recent past. Very recent past, actually. Surely, it had to count for something that he was beginning to see that his behavior had been something of an embarrassment. Of course, he wasn’t willing to test that theory at the moment. He offered a bright smile and pocketed his personal discomfort. “You’re one smart girl,” he said. “Must be the clean island air.”

  “Or common sense,” Lilah retorted. “Just as people shouldn’t judge by their pocketbooks, neither should people assume that they are better or worse because of them. My Grams used to tell me that when I was growing up.”

  “Ah, the infamous Grams. I wish I could’ve met her. Do you think she would’ve liked me?”

  Lilah cocked her head as if considering her answer, then nodded. “Yeah, I think she would have. She was a sucker for a cute smile and a sharp wit.”

  “Then she would’ve adored me because I’m known for those very things,” he said with mock seriousness.

  “I bet,” Lilah said wryly. “Tell me more. How did your family come to be wealthy?” When he hesitated, she apologized with a flush. “I’m sorry. That was way too personal. You don’t have to answer.”

  “Lilah, we’re sitting here naked together, covered in each other’s DNA and you think that question is too personal?”

  She giggled as she realized the irony. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But we really don’t know much about each other and I don’t usually do this with strangers. I mean...I’m not really a one-night stand kind of girl.”

  “Thank God, I was beginning to feel as if you just wanted me for my body,” Justin said, pretending to flick his hair back like a girl. Lilah laughed and the sound warmed him, filling him with light and something else not quite easily defined. He shook off the foreign feeling and refocused on his storytelling. “Even though I went to Harvard, I wasn’t a great student, not compared to those who really applied themselves. Too social the teachers said. I mean, I did well enough but, I was too busy having a good time to focus on the serious stuff. I figured there was plenty of time for that when I was too old to have fun.”

  She smiled. “And that was fine with your parents?”

  “No. Not exactly. My mom’s a socialite so she likes to brag about my accomplishments to her circle of friends—”

  “Do you have any?” she cut in with an impish smile.

  “Have what?”

  “Accomplishments?”

  He barked a short laugh. “No, not really.”

  “Then I guess she didn’t do much bragging.”

  “No, I guess not.”

  They laughed together and Justin felt completely at ease for the first time in a long time. If it weren’t for the hovering specter of the knowledge that his time with Lilah was short, he would’ve considered this day the best ever.

  “Have you ever...thought of visiting New York?” he asked, holding his breath. When Lilah shook her head, he wasn’t surprised but he was disappointed. “Why not? New York is a fun place with the right person.”

  The laughter faded from her eyes and a wistful expression replaced her former joy. “I’m not cut out for the city. My sister Lindy lived in Los Angeles for a time and was constantly asking me to move there but I knew it wasn’t the right place for me. I need my island. It’s my haven from the world.”

  He considered her answer and frowned when he came to realize something. “Your haven? Are you hiding from something?”

  “Of course not,” Lilah said quickly but when she realized she may have given away more than she’d intended, she clarified. “It was just an expression. What I meant was, this is my home. I don’t have any need or desire to leave.”

  “Not even for someone that rocks your world over and over,” he said, nudging her thigh with his foot, wearing a suggestive grin. “Come on...imagine this—you, me and a penthouse view. Have you ever made love up against a huge glass window overlooking the city at night?”

  She blushed as she laughed. “No.”

  “Then you’re missing out. I’d be willing to give you that experience.”

  “You own a penthouse?”

  He shrugged. “My family does.”

  “Tempting but I’ll pass,” she said. “But I appreciate th
e offer.”

  He shouldn’t have been bothered by her refusal. It should’ve bounced off his back without notice. But it bothered him. Mostly because he knew her refusal meant that he’d likely never see her again unless he came here, and with the schedule his father had set in place for him when he returned, that was damn near impossible. “So what keeps you here aside from family? There doesn’t seem to be too many jobs available.”

  “My job is with Larimar, helping my family run the resort.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not a career,” he said, suddenly hating what he was saying. He sounded like his damn father, harping on him to find a direction in life. Determined to redirect, he said, “I’m just saying, someone with your talent... Shouldn’t you be where an artist can be seen? No better place on earth for that purpose than New York.”

  “Who says I’m talented?”

  “Plenty of people,” he lied. In truth only Donna at Rush Tide had mentioned it, but Lilah didn’t have to know that. Besides, somehow he sensed it was true. Lilah had an artist’s soul; he could see it in her eyes. She had more depth than a thousand cultured artistic snobs who fancied themselves critics and connoisseurs of every medium. He’d be willing to bet Lilah’s art was something special. Just like her. “Let me see your art and I’ll see if it stands up to the praise,” he challenged.

  “I don’t think so,” Lilah said, abruptly standing and collecting their used utensils and empty coconut shells. “I don’t need anyone’s validation. My art is my own, whether it’s crap or not.”

  He followed her back into the house, intrigued by how prickly she became over the subject. “I doubt it’s crap.”

  She smiled with false sweetness. “You’ll never know. My art is private.”

  His brow rose, and he watched as she made short work of cleaning what they’d used and throwing away the coconuts. “Again, need I remind you that we’ve just spent hours worshipping each other’s bodies in the most intimate way possible?”