by Jamie Pope
“When you told me to stay in bed, this was the last thing I expected.”
“I thought we could have a little picnic.”
She gifted him with one of her happy, sunny smiles that did more to him than any practiced seductress’s gaze. “I think that sounds nice.” She sat up, her hair even wilder than usual. “We can eat in the sitting area and throw open the patio doors and let some of the ocean air in.”
“Why should we let the ocean air in when we could go to the ocean? The best part of being rich is having an ocean in your backyard.”
“You want to have a picnic on the beach?”
He shrugged. “Why not? Grab a blanket.”
She looked at him for a long moment before she turned to take one from the closet. “Okay. Let’s go.”
A warm breeze welcomed them as they stepped outside. They were quiet as they walked down the path that led to the beach, the only sounds coming from their feet shuffling in the sand. As the beach came into view his chest swelled a bit. This was all his. A private beach. An oceanfront mansion, more money than he knew what to do with. But sadness crept in there, too. He was alone here, when this place was meant for a family.
“Hope we can find a good spot,” Virginia said as she put her hand over her eyes and looked around.
He shook his head and smiled at her lame joke. “You pick. Make sure it’s away from kids. I don’t want any sand kicked into my food.”
“How about here?” She spread the blanket in front of the high beach grass and sat down. “Yes. This is the perfect spot.” She patted the blanket beside her. “Come see.” He put the tray down and sat next to her, so close that their arms touched. She leaned against him, as though it was natural. As though she had been leaning against him for a lifetime. “If I was going to paint this scene, this is where I was would capture it from.”
“You paint?”
“I’m a painter. I mean, I was a painter. That’s what my major was. I painted professionally for years before I became a designer. Didn’t I tell you that?”
“No.” He didn’t know, but now that he did, he wasn’t surprised. There was something about her, the way she looked at things, the way she studied things, took them in, simple things like flowers. Beautiful things. As if she was seeing them in a way no one else did.
“Well, I was. I sold a few, but the past couple of years I supported myself by doing restoration jobs and copies.”
“Like forgeries?” he asked as he grabbed a plate and piled it with food for her.
“No.” She shook her head. “I do a copy that’s either bigger or smaller than the original. The client knows they are getting a copy. I signed my own name.”
“But you don’t do it anymore?”
“No. After Burcet left me, I took a long look at my life and decided I needed a change. Plus, I was spending more time on recreating someone else’s masterpieces instead of trying to create my own. With interior design I can do that. Each house, each room is a blank canvas, so this is good for me.”
“Hmm,” he said softly, but he had a feeling that she missed painting.
“Did you know my most favorite thing in the world is cold chicken?” She picked up a drumstick and sank her teeth into it. “It’s a little greasy, but the flavor settles that second day and somehow makes it even more excellent.”
He reached for the bread, ripping off a hunk of it and handing to her before he assembled a simple chicken sandwich of his own. “Not every cold chicken is this good. You put something in it that takes it to another level.”
“It’s garlic-and-herb roasted. My mama’s recipe. The only thing she can cook well.”
“Your mother didn’t cook much?”
“Nope.” She leaned against him a little more as she bit into her bread. “She didn’t have enough room in her head for practical things like cooking. It was too filled with theorems and numbers. She can make a mean roasted chicken, though, and a passable meat loaf. Other than that, my dad was mostly in charge of feeding us.”
“Your father likes to cook?”
“No, but he’d rather eat his own cooking than whatever science experiment my mother put together. I took over the cooking duties when I was old enough.”
“So if neither one of your parents liked to cook, how did you learn?”
“I just tried things out. Put together some things I thought would taste good. I also had an Italian boyfriend who taught me a lot. We spent a whole summer in Tuscany. I learned what good wine and good pasta was.”
“Italian? Moroccan? You’ve got a thing for foreign men, don’t you?”
“Accents. They used to turn me into a big pile of mushy mush.”
“And now?” He switched to the Spanish he so rarely used. “Does it still have the same effect on you?”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Well, that’s an interesting little trick. Don’t pull that one out too much. You might make women lose their minds when you roll your Rs.”
“I’m half Costa Rican. I can’t cook any dishes from there, but my mother made sure we spoke Spanish. I think it was just so we would know what she was saying when she was angry with us.”
“I always wished I spoke another language. I took six years of Spanish and the only thing I can manage to say is ‘where is the library?’”
“Living in Miami, Spanish comes in handy. I guess my mother was preparing me for my time there since birth.”
They fell silent for a few minutes while they ate. The sun was starting to set; the waves were crashing against the shore. A couple of seagulls flew above them. For once, Carlos was perfectly at peace. It seemed that he’d been searching for that feeling for years, only to find it with her.
Virginia set her plate aside, resting her head on his lap as she stretched out her long legs. She had to realize how dangerous that move was. He had been aroused since he’d walked into the room and seen her on the bed, her dress bunched up at her waist.
“I’m too tired to keep eating. I don’t think that’s ever happened before.”
He stroked his hand over her thick curls, loving the texture on his skin. “I don’t think I’ve ever been too tired to eat.”
“Hmm,” she half moaned. “Maybe I’ll go inside and rustle up dessert for us in a little while.”
“Relax.” He ran his thumb over the arch of her eyebrow. “You don’t have to do everything all the time.”
“I want to be useful.”
“You do a lot. You do too much.”
“I want to.” She yawned. “I want to take care of you.”
Those words made him pause, and he didn’t know if it was sleepiness that had made her say them or if she really meant them. She wanted stay professional. She wanted him to stay away, but everything she was doing only brought him closer.
* * *
Virginia realized she must have fallen asleep as she felt Carlos shifting himself from beneath her. “I’m sorry.” She scrambled to sit up. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. She’d only meant to rest her heavy eyes for a few moments, because no matter how tired she was, she hadn’t wanted to miss anything.
How often did a girl get to dine on a secluded beach with the beautiful man who owned it? A man who was thoughtful enough to bring her dinner. A man who was gentle enough to stroke the hair out of her face.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” But she had, because he was warm and comfortable and he made her feel safe.
“I didn’t mind. I never mind having a beautiful woman in my lap.” He smiled softly at her. “I was just going to suggest you go to bed. You look wiped out.”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him down onto the blanket beside her. They were face-to-face, their bodies close but not touching, and it caused goose bumps to break out on her arms. “Not yet.” She touched his arm, running
her fingers down it. The combination of hard flesh under smooth skin was arousing. Everything about the night was arousing. She didn’t know if it was the beach setting or him. Maybe it was a combination of both, but she knew she didn’t want to be alone in that moment.
“Not yet?” The look in his eyes changed, as if he was trying to figure out what she was all about.
She hadn’t even known herself what she was up to. Her mother’s words were in the back of her head, serving as little taunts, just waiting for her to do something stupid. Sometimes she just wanted to be stupid.
He had kissed her that day at Derek’s house. He had pulled her body close and kissed her, and she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about his hands or his lips. The warmth of his hard body, his clean smell combined with the heady fragrance of sweet-scented ocean air.
“Stay here with me for a little while.” She knew if they went back into the house she would come to her senses and go to her room alone. But as long as they were out here, on this beach, lying on a blanket in the sand, she could pretend it was all a dream. She could keep out her common sense and keep him with her like this for a little longer.
“Okay.”
She could see the arousal in his eyes and she knew that it mirrored her own. She wasn’t strong enough to tell him no. She didn’t want to.
He gathered her into his arms, held her tightly against him. She loved the feeling, craved the closeness and his touch.
“You smell good.” He ran his nose along the seam of her throat.
“That’s because I aired myself out this morning.”
“I appreciate that.” He kissed her neck, just below her ear. “Take the day off tomorrow,” he said as he ran his hand down her back, turning her into a bigger pile of mush.
“I can’t.” She sighed. “I booked this big job and I want to impress my boss.”
“Your boss is already impressed with you. I’m sure of it. Take tomorrow off. I’m serious. I don’t like that you’re this exhausted. It’s okay for you to rest.”
“I’m not good at resting. Unless there’s a fresh-smelling hard-bodied man to rest with me. Let’s do something tomorrow.”
“Like what?” He asked the question as if he really had no idea what the world could offer him outside his home. She was worried about him. It probably wasn’t her place to be, but her mind still traveled back to the day she caught him watching footage of the moment he got hurt. He didn’t think he had anything else to offer the world. He didn’t think the world had anything to offer him besides baseball. That was wrong. There was so much out there for him. He just had to be willing to go out and grasp it.
“I don’t know. Whatever you want to do. Something you’ve never done before. Something unexpected.”
“Something unexpected, huh?” He kissed her shoulder.
“I’ll make breakfast before we go. Pancakes, eggs, bacon. Maybe a little fresh fruit. Or should I make waffles instead? I love waffles.”
“Hush. No more talk of breakfast.”
She felt his hand wander beneath her dress to the small of her back. He stroked her there and a rush of tingles broke out along her skin, the same tingles that erupted every time he touched her like that. “Relax.” He kissed her neck with soft, warm, sweet pecks, which shouldn’t have been so erotic, but they were. She lifted her chin to give him more access and he rewarded her by sliding his lips across her throat, to that little spot that would have made her knees buckle if she were standing up.
“You make my heart race.”
He rolled her onto her back. She expected to feel his body on top of her and his lips on her skin, but that didn’t happen. He inched down the blanket, pulling up her dress until her belly and legs were completely exposed to him and to the nature around them. He sat back for a moment and just looked at her. There was appreciation in his eyes. She felt beautiful. That was a new experience for her. She felt beautiful and she didn’t need words to feel that way, just his look.
“I’m not sure where to start,” he said, more to himself than to her. But after a moment he seemed to decide and settled on her stomach. Her grabbed her hips and kissed her belly. She moistened then; never had she been intimate outdoors. It excited her to be here with him doing this.
“So soft.” He kissed her again, this time hotter and wetter than before. His tongue flicked into her belly button and she flooded, the space between her legs becoming slick with want for him. “Your body... How I’ve missed a body like this.”
His lifted his head and his gaze traveled to her thighs. She didn’t think it was possible to be more turned on than she was in that moment, but he managed to do it just by looking at her, just by gently stroking his fingers up the curve of her inner thigh. “I want to take care of you this evening.” He touched between her legs, his eyes darkening when he found her underwear wet. He rubbed her through the fabric, his fingers feeling good even though there was a barrier between him and her skin.
“Take them off,” she moaned when he rubbed again.
“Don’t be impatient,” he said softly, his deep, smooth voice bringing her slightly closer to the edge. He slid her underwear off and trailed one finger down the center of her lips. She shuddered. He was taking his time. Oh, how she had wished for a man who liked to take his time with her. But now that she had him, she wanted him inside her as soon as possible. “You’re supposed to be relaxing.” He touched her slick folds, sliding his finger down the length of her wetness.
She gasped. She was so close to the edge already and he had barely touched her.
He found her spot, rubbing her in slow circles. She cried out his name, wanting more of him, wanting his lips on hers and his hands on her body and him on top of her pushing deep inside, but she couldn’t get the words out. She couldn’t do anything but experience his touch and the extreme pleasure it brought.
Climax struck her so hard it left her breathless, but that didn’t stop Carlos. He kept stroking her through it, arousing her all over again. This time he slipped his fingers deep inside her, pumping in and out, causing another orgasm. It was more intense this time, causing her toes to curl and her back to come up off the blanket.
“Carlos...” She went to reach for him, but he didn’t allow her to touch him; he just softly kissed her mouth once before he got up and walked away.
* * *
Virginia awoke to the sound of her cell phone ringing. Her thoughts turned to Carlos, who with one phone call had started them down a road from which she wasn’t sure they could turn back. But it wasn’t him. It was her mother. Of course it was her mother, the day after Virginia had done the thing she swore she wasn’t going to do. Her mother probably had some kind of internal alarm programmed to go off whenever her children had done something they weren’t supposed to do.
“Hello, Mother.”
“It’s after seven, dear. Are you still asleep? You sound as if you were asleep.”
“I was asleep. How are you this morning?”
“I’m fine. Are you sick? Is that why you are still in bed? I thought if you did well on this job it could lead to other jobs and really establish your design career, since you don’t want to come home and teach at one of the best universities in the world. And if you have a more stable career your father and I wouldn’t have to worry about you every moment of every day.”
“I could always go back to painting if I bomb at this.”
“Stable, dear. Selling one painting a year and hoping the profits get you through isn’t stable. You aren’t getting any younger, Virginia. You have to start thinking about your future family.”
“I know, mother. My eggs are drying up as we speak.”
“Virginia.” Her mother sighed heavily. “Don’t be vulgar in the morning.”
“I’m sorry. I know you can’t stomach vulgarity before 9:00 a.m.”
“
No. Not at least until I’ve had my third cup of coffee.”
And that right there was the reason Virginia loved her mother. She had a sense of humor under all her stuffiness. “Did you want something? Or did you just call to chat?”
“I wanted to see how your job was progressing, but judging by the fact that you’re still in bed, I gather I shouldn’t inquire.”
“He gave me the day off, Mom. That’s why I’m lollygagging in bed at seven fifteen. On my days off I like to lie in bed till seven forty-five or so.”
“So this football—”
“Baseball player,” she corrected.
“Yes, baseball player. I looked him up. He doesn’t seem to be into anything illegal. But he does seem to have a long line of scantily clad women in his past. A very long line. He’s treating you well?”
She thought back to last night and a hot flush crossed her checks. “As far as bosses go, he’s a decent one.”
“If he tries to get fresh with you, you leave there. You don’t have to take any kind of sexual harassment.”
“Yes, Mom, I know.”
“And if he does, or the job becomes too much for you, don’t worry about getting a new one. I have a spot open for you here at the university. You would be such an effective educator. I’ve seen you with students. You seem to inform and entertain in a way that’s rare.”
“Why are you so convinced that I’m going to fail at this job?”
“I’m not. I’m just letting you know that you have options if this doesn’t work out.”
“You completely disregarded the fact that I’m actually good at this and I secured this huge job on my own. I’ve been running my business on my own for a year. I’ve never asked for your help.”
