The Trouble With Lust

by T. M. Cromer

  Shock paralyzed him. When he finally found his wits, the woman on the other side of the room was gone and Shonda was already heading out the door. He shoved his way through the thick wall of bodies to catch her. His mind churned with all the possibilities of Shonda’s doppelgänger.

  Chapter Six

  “Shonda, wait!” Mason placed a hand on her shoulder to halt her progress.

  “No, I’m tired of you telling me what to do,” she raged. “I was right the first day. You’re an asshole.”

  He released her like a hot potato. “I’m an asshole? I find you kissing up to some wannabe surfer dude less than two hours after I leave you, I might add, and I’m the asshole. That’s rich.”

  “I wasn’t kissing up to anyone. I was having a good time. Your twisted mind makes everything worse than it is,” she accused.

  “Really? So no one broke into your hotel room? You weren’t doing shots and dancing with some strange man, who you’ve never met before? You’re really here on the island alone, even though I’ve just seen a woman who is the spitting image of you, smirking at me from across the room?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Stop playing games, Shonda. I want to know what’s going on. Why did you pick me? Do I have patsy written on my forehead?”

  “You’re crazy, you know that?”

  She shoved against his chest and stormed past him. Perhaps he was crazy because he knew the smart thing to do would be to walk away. The problem was that he couldn’t let her leave without answers. Again, he grabbed her arm before she could get far.

  “I want the truth. Are you playing me?”

  “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t?”

  She looked sincere. She sounded sincere. Added to how much Mason wanted to believe her, and he found himself hauling her close.

  “If you’re in trouble, you can tell me. I will help you in any way I possibly can,” he said gruffly.

  “Mason. Look at me. Really look at me,” she said, earnest.

  He did, but she must have seen the smidgeon of distrust he still held in reserve. Her bright eyes dulled, and her face went hard.

  “I think I want to be alone tonight.” Her tone was cold, and it chilled him. For someone so warm and giving, it was off-putting.

  “Shonda—”

  “Good night, Mason.”

  And because he wanted to pull her close, he let her go. His mind shouted he was a contrary bastard, but it wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know.

  As she walked away, shoulders back and head held high, weaving slightly from the alcohol she’d consumed, he called himself an idiot. Though, exactly why he was an idiot was in question. He was almost one hundred percent certain she spoke the truth. However, there was the smallest kernel of doubt that had initially kept him from trailing after her like a dog after a bitch in heat.

  He swore and jogged to catch up. “Hold up!”

  “Why won’t you go away?” She frowned her anger.

  “I will once I see you safely to your room.”

  He didn’t know it was possible for her to stick her nose so far up in the air, but she did. “I don’t need you,” she assured him, haughty and proud.

  Suddenly, it struck him that she’d been too buzzed to lie. Her reactions had to have been honest. Man, he was stupid sometimes. But because she had essentially said no to his offer to stay the night, he would respect her wishes. However, he fully intended to safely escort her to her room.

  “I know you don’t. But will you humor me?” he cajoled, tucking a strand of her hair behind one delicate ear. “I don’t want to worry all night something could’ve happened to you.”

  “Fine. Whatever. But none of your sexy bullshit. I’m not caving,” she warned.

  A bark of laughter escaped. “Sexy bullshit? Can you clarify that? Just so there’s no misunderstanding and all.”

  She waved a hand up and down, then all around. “That! Right there. First you are all manly-man, practically banging your chest. Now you’re all sweet and shit. All ‘let me see you back to your room’. Don’t do that.”

  “I see,” he said, with mock severity. He held up his hand and pledged, “I solemnly swear, I will honor my commitment to walk you back to your room without any sexy bullshit. On my oath as a Boy Scout”

  “Oh, knock it off. As if any of you Sharps were Boy Scouts,” she scoffed. So saying, she reached up and jerked his head down to hers, fastening her lips on his with a defeated sigh. When they both came up for air, she continued in a husky voice, “And I’m so glad you weren’t. Race you back to my room. First one there gets to be on top.”

  Mason gave her a ten-second head start for three reasons. One, he wanted to watch her movements from behind. Two, because he was more than fine with being on the bottom and letting her have control of their sexcapades tonight. The third reason? He didn’t want to expend any unnecessary energy. He fully intended to use it all up on making love with Shonda.

  They arrived at her door together. Technically, Mason would have called it a tie, but since she declared herself the winner, he was prone to let her. While competitive, he knew when to concede a win. However, one look at her puzzled face had any plans of sex flying right out the window.

  “What is it?”

  She gestured toward the door which stood slightly ajar. It took him less than a second to realize she couldn’t have opened it upon their arrival and that something more sinister was at play. He’d missed it upon walking up, because he’d been hyper-focused on Shonda.

  “Stay back,” he ordered quietly.

  “This again?” she whispered fiercely.

  He snagged an arm around her waist and backed her away from the entry. Once they were a safe distance, he leaned in to speak in a low tone so as not to be overheard.

  “I want you to go down to the main reception desk and get security up here,” he said, holding her chin up so their eyes could meet. It was important she see he was deadly serious about her not entering the suite. He pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m asking, not telling. I wouldn’t care to see something happen to you, Shonda.”

  He inched away to drop a soft kiss on her lips, lingering a brief second or two longer than he should’ve. Time was of the essence.

  “Okay.”

  “Thank you. Now go. Hurry.”

  He waited until she was out of sight before cautiously inching open the door. A sixth sense told him the suite was empty and no one was lying in wait. But it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious. He didn’t bother entering because he could see from where he stood the place had been trashed. Grim determination settled over him. This had been a type of scare tactic. He’d lay odds nothing was missing this time either. Whoever was doing harassing Shonda was going to pay.

  After the police and management cleared out, Mason helped Shonda straighten everything and fold the clothes strewn about.

  “I want you to pack your things and come stay with me for the remainder of the trip.”

  “No. I can’t impose on you.”

  “This isn’t up for debate, love. We’re spending our nights together anyway. Why not move in for the remaining days here?”

  “They’re re-keying my lock. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “And if you aren’t? How do you think I’ll feel if something happens to you, knowing I might have prevented it?”

  “Mason…”

  “No!” he shouted, finally losing his temper at her stubbornness. “Shonda, there is more at play here than you realize. Earlier tonight, there was a woman who looked identical to you at the bar. My gut tells me she’s behind this. Do you honestly believe re-keying a lock will keep a woman, who is essentially your twin, from getting her hands on a copy of the key? I doubt if she stood in front of the manager at this point, he could tell the difference.”

  “It makes no damn sense,” she argued, starting to pace, all traces of her earlier intoxication gone. “Are you sure what you saw? I mean, the bar was dimly lit.
How can you be positive?”

  He’d never wanted to strangle someone more than he did her at that precise moment in time. Frustration had him rubbing his palms up and down his face. A count to ten, and then twenty, made him no less irritated. “I’m blind now?” he snarked.

  She blew up. “Will you stop taking offense to everything I say? Every time someone questions your view, you get angry. All I’m saying is that I’m an only child. There is no possible way someone can look that much like me. And what are the damn odds of two of us being in one location?”

  “First, I do not get angry. I get irritated. There’s a difference,” he stated, less than a foot from her with exaggerated patience.

  “Well, I stand corrected.”

  He ignored her surly attitude to make his second point. “Second, I’m not mistaken in what I saw. She made sure to catch my eye, Shonda.”

  She had no comeback.

  “Third, the odds would be pretty damn high, if she knew your plans in advance and was here to terrorize or cause trouble for you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay, what?” Her sudden compliance confused him. When did a woman give in to logic? And what exactly was she giving in to?

  “Okay, I will stay with you until the flight home. But you have to agree not to freak out like you did today in the cab.”

  A nod of his head was his concession. “You’re staying with me… I don’t want you to think—”

  “I get it, Mason. You don’t do long term.”

  Another nod, and she was off to pack her suitcases. Leaving her to her chore, he stepped out on her patio. It was an escape of sorts. The ocean breeze, the stars, the tiki bar music in the distance, all these things contributed to calming him. Between their fight, the break-in, and the stress of needing to find out who wanted to terrorize Shonda, Mason was wound tight.

  “Mason? I’m ready to go.”

  A deep inhale of the night air helped to center him. He pivoted and braced his hands against the rail. She hovered in the doorway, still in her sundress from earlier in the day. The halter top of the dress propped up her girls and made his mouth water at the deep cleavage.

  “Come here.” If there was a hoarse quality to his voice, they both ignored it.

  She came to stand between his splayed legs. One of his fingers trailing along the opening of her top sent both of their pulses kicking into high gear.

  “You are so very beautiful,” he said huskily.

  Shonda swallowed hard. Her responsiveness to his slightest touch or insinuation turned him on to no end.

  He lowered his head to hers, skimming her jaw with his long fingers. His hands delved into her hair and brought their mouths to within kissing distance. Mason, overcome with want, would have done the deed then and there.

  She pressed her hand against him, and he felt the light stroking of fingers through his shorts. They both knew what was going to happen next. Before he lost his mind, he clasped her hand and led her inside, stopping only long enough to lock the sliding door. “Should we make use of your bed one last time before heading to my suite?”

  “The bellboy’s ready with the cart, and the taxi’s downstairs, love. If you don’t speed it up, we’re going to miss our flight,” Mason hollered from the other side of the bathroom door.

  “Coming. Hold your damn horses,” she yelled back.

  The handle jiggled.

  “Why is it locked?”

  She could hear the puzzlement in his voice. They hadn’t taken much time for privacy in the whole time they’d been in St. Thomas. But today, right this minute, Shonda needed to hide. She splashed her face with cool water, patted it dry, then started the careful application of her waterproof eyeliner and mascara. As emotional as she was feeling, she figured she was better safe than sorry. The last thing she needed was raccoon eyes from crying.

  “Shonda?”

  She inhaled deeply and exhaled on the count of four; a breathing technique she’d picked up along the way at some yoga class or another. A second deep breath, and she was ready to open the door.

  “What the hell? Everything all right?” His concern was apparent, but she wasn’t naive enough to believe it was anything more than basic human kindness.

  “I’m good. I’m just sad to be leaving this tropical paradise and heading home in the dead of winter,” she lied.

  “That’s it?”

  “Mmhmm.” She smiled brightly and pushed past him to drop her makeup case in her purse.

  “Why do I get the feeling it’s something more?”

  Because you’re perceptive.

  “I have no idea. I can assure you it’s not.” Avoiding eye contact, she searched all the drawers, under the bed and the bathroom to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind. “I think that’s it. Javier can take the bags now.”

  “Shonda—”

  Finally, she met his probing gaze and offered up a tight smile. “I’m fine. Swear. Please, let it go.”

  “Are you upset we didn’t find the people responsible for breaking into your suite?”

  Latching on to the excuse he provided would be ideal. While she was disconcerted about the two break-ins, she wasn’t going to make him feel bad because his investigation yielded nothing.

  “No. Not really. Can you please drop it? I’m only tired and not looking forward to the long day of travel. The trip down scarred me for life.”

  That excuse appeared to be one Mason could understand. “Fair enough. Let’s go.”

  They didn’t say much on the way to the airport. Everything had been said that morning when he’d reiterated their affair would be ending. To give him credit, he did seem slightly remorseful.

  As they stood in line to check in for their flight, Shonda could feel the emotional distance widening between them. The closer Mason got to the desk, the more reserved he became. Instead of requesting seats together, he took his proffered seat assignment, cast her one last unreadable look, and headed for security. If her hands shook as she handed over her passport to the ticketing agent, it couldn’t be helped. That had been the coldest goodbye in the history of all her relationships.

  Once through security, she found a chair by her gate and waited. Mason stood off to one side, leaning against a column, nose buried in his phone. Sadness washed over her. In order to not think about it, she pulled a tablet from her purse and scanned through all her social media accounts. She smiled at Erica’s post on her wall. A single “Hello?” and a frowning face emoji.

  Because she couldn’t help herself, she looked up Mason’s account and perused his posts. They were scarce, proving unlike herself he wasn’t a social media junkie. She toyed with the idea of sending him a friend request but wasn’t sure she could take the rejection if he didn’t respond. In the end, she logged out and scrolled through an online shopping site’s deals of the day. Retail therapy always helped.

  The announcement came to board. She and Mason seemed to hit the same spot in line at the same time. Wordlessly, he gestured for her to go ahead of him. When they were on the plane, he helped her with her bag and found his seat. Again, without anything more than a distracted smile. She wasn’t sure his dismissal could be any clearer. And if her heart ached and eyes burned with unshed tears, well, at least he couldn’t tell from where he was seated.

  Chapter Seven

  After they’d disembarked the plane and as all the passengers waited for their luggage by the carousel, a sense of loss struck Shonda. Part of her wanted to shrivel up and grieve. Part of her wanted to rage and tell Mason to go to hell. The biggest part wanted to fight to keep alive what they’d found in St. Thomas. But he wasn’t going to let that happen. He’d already said his goodbyes, and now, there he waited, directly across the baggage claim from her, scanning messages on his phone as if she never existed. As if she weren’t fifteen feet away, slowly dying inside. How many messages could one guy have anyway? Probably hordes of women telling him to suck it.

  Nothing she could say or do could further her cause. He
didn’t want a relationship. He’d been adamant from their first day together. In the ten days on the island, he’d reiterated it on at least five separate occasions. She couldn’t say she hadn’t gone into their brief affair knowing he wanted nothing more than a casual fling. Still, it hurt. Despite her best efforts, she’d invested more than time. She’d given her heart. Unbelievably fast. God, she should have learned by now.

  The sound of the conveyer belt starting drew her attention away from her current obsession. Her black and white bag with the pink ribbon tied to the handle was first to come around. A kindly man next to her hauled it off the machine and set it at her feet.

  “Thank you,” she said with a warm smile.

  She lifted the handle, cast one last quick glance in Mason’s oblivious direction, gave him a mental middle finger, and headed out to her car. A touch of her remote started the car, and hopefully the heat, and another touch opened the trunk of her vehicle. The large gaping hole staring back at her hit her hard. Here she was, thirty-three years old and once again alone. No husband to call her own. No children to read stories to and tuck in at night. She’d been so busy cultivating a career, she hadn’t taken time to create something real.

  The empty trunk represented her empty life. The perfect metaphor. Here she stood, in love with a man who was so far removed from wanting a relationship or family, and she was left to wonder if she’d ever reprogram her brain and heart so as not fall for these self-absorbed bastards who only wanted one thing from her.

  Firming her resolve to get real about her life and find something to fulfill her, she reached for her suitcase. A sensation of sorts swept through her, alerting her Spidey senses. Shonda whipped her head up and scanned the area. She could detect no real threat, or at least none anywhere close. With a shake of her head and a small laugh at her own expense, then she was reaching for her case again. This time another feeling struck—her body’s instinctual response when Mason was near.