by Claire Adams
"What do you mean?" I snapped as my phone started to ring again. In Corsica's guest room, I could hear the shower running and the images that inspired were not helping me concentrate. "I'm not doing anything."
"That is exactly my point," Phillip said. "You've got a woman like Corsica right in front of you and you're trying to concentrate on work? When are you finally going to agree that your priorities are completely out of whack?"
I snorted. "Since when do you think securing a fortune, one that you invested in, is a low priority?"
"Give it a break, Penn," Phillip laughed. "We're already rich. When you get around to accepting that fact, Corsica and I will be on Cannery Row. I hear there's a great little karaoke bar down there."
Corsica was ready within her ten minutes, as promised. She flew back into the kitchen, a cloud of floral scent and fresh skin. I grabbed the counter and ignored my phone as it rang for the third time.
"Coming?" Phillip asked.
"No. I've got to take this call," I ground out.
Corsica blew me a kiss, and it clung to me, the way her sexy, clean scent clung to the air around me.
I had always loved work and always worked hard. It had never bothered me to be a workaholic before, but now I felt a different pull. I never minded missing out before, but that was before it was Corsica I was missing.
I dealt with my assistant as fast as I could. After a flurry of emails, an argument about a contract, and a quick conference call, I was done. There was at least four hours of work left for me to wade through, but I couldn't take it anymore. Corsica was off with my friends, and I couldn't concentrate until I saw that she was all right. That excuse held until I caught up with them at the little basement karaoke bar.
Phillip made fun of me as soon as he saw me. "I thought you might not be able to resist."
"That has nothing to do with it," I said. "I'm just here to make sure you aren't filling her head with stories."
"Like the truth?" Phillip asked.
I looked around, annoyed, but we were alone for the moment. Tamara and Bill waved from the bar where they were ordering another round. "Where's Corsica?"
"Restroom," Phillip said, "which gives us plenty of time to discuss why you can't just tell her you're almost as loaded as your father."
"You know damn well why."
My friend shook his head. "I know you're stuck on this whole 'people treat you different when you have money' idea, but it doesn't hold for everyone. I've met lots and lots of people who don't care at all how much I make. You know people can be happy without money, right?"
I rolled my eyes. "I know that, but I think someone might have to tell Corsica. She's bent on getting all she can in this life."
"I don't know. Yeah, she talks about it, but it seems like a defense mechanism or something. She only talks about her career and financial aspirations when she doesn't want to talk about her past."
I wanted to punch Phillip because he was right. How he had managed, within a few short hours, to sort out Corsica's mixed signals was irritating. "That's a good theory, but I'm not convinced yet."
"Then maybe I still have a chance to change your mind." Alicia slid into the seat next to me and gave me a warm smile. "What are we talking about?"
"Corsica," Phillip said before I could stop him. He was always the one that liked pouring gasoline on a fire.
Alicia's eyes narrowed, but she kept her smile in place. "Yes, what did she say she had studied at school? Hospitality? Seems like if she'd grown up with the right etiquette, those classes would be unnecessary."
"What do you mean 'the right etiquette?'" I asked.
"Oh, nothing," Alicia tossed her hair. "It's just that no matter how charming she is, or beautiful, or how many classes she took, she'll still just be the hotel worker that no one remembers. The one from…where is she from again?"
"Wow, am I sensing a little jealousy?" Phillip asked with a mischievous smile.
Alicia blinked her large eyes innocently. "We've all talked about this countless times before. People attach themselves to us because they think we can pull them up, but everyone has their level in life. It's not up to us to change that."
"Or judge people based on it," I snapped. "I can't believe you think it matters where someone grew up."
"Yeah," Phillip snorted, "maybe she should take a trip to the heartland, herself."
Alicia pursed her lips. "I can't believe you two are trying to make me into the enemy here. Phillip, you've been caught up with a social climber dozens of times before. Do you really recommend it?"
"Certain aspects, yes."
I slapped my hands down on the table. "Corsica isn't like that. From what I've seen, she's worked hard for everything she's got and she's not done yet. How can you not admire someone for that? I respect that she wants more out of life than she started with. It's a pretty sick cynic that doesn't believe we don't all have to earn our own worth."
"Bravo," Phillip said. He gave me a curious look.
I could feel the question in his eyes probing too deep. Yes, I defended Corsica, but it was only the decent thing to do. Alicia was also looking at me, but she was baffled and angry. Luckily, just as she opened her mouth to continue, the karaoke stage lit up.
"All right, folks, break's over and we're back to the singing. First up is Corsica Allen," the karaoke host introduced her.
All conversation was cut off as soon as Corsica opened her mouth. Alicia fought to find fault with her, but couldn't form a single word. Phillip watched me, but I ignored him. Corsica was there, breathing life into the song–and into me.
"This calls for another round," Phillip announced when Corsica returned to the table.
"What does?" she asked, her cheeks still bright from her performance.
"The fact that we have a star sitting at our table." Phillip winked, and she laughed at the blatant flattery.
I stood up and caught her elbow before she could sit down. "Actually, we've got to be getting back."
"Where?"
"Why?"
Phillip and Corsica asked at the same time. Alicia sulked at the end of the table, but she smiled when Bill and Tamara pulled Corsica away into a conversation.
"Have to get her home before she turns into a pumpkin?" Alicia snickered in my ear.
I shifted away from the arm she slid through mine. "What are you doing in a karaoke bar? Aren't you afraid this will tarnish your image?"
"You're right. So, why don't you and I move the party back to my place?" Alicia's gaze was too warm.
I patted her arm and tried to overhear the other conversation. Bill was always surprising us all with his vast and varied contacts. Now, he was lining up the right ones for Corsica to meet.
"He's semi-retired and doesn't need the money. They play here in town whenever the moods strikes, and I'm sure your singing would put him in the mood to be on stage again," Bill was saying.
Alicia sighed and rubbed her cheek on my shoulder. "Is he talking about that old trumpet player again?"
"He's a legend," I said.
"I prefer more modern stories," Alicia said. She looked up and noticed my gaze was riveted to Corsica. Her fingers tightened on my arm, but she finally pulled away. "Though it seems like you all can't let go of fairytales."
Bill exchanged contact information with Corsica and promised to put in a good word for her. He was already on the phone as the party broke up. Phillip offered to give her a ride home, but I swept an arm around her waist.
"Course, I forgot. You're staying at Xavier's place," Phillip said with a conspiratorial look at me.
Corsica brushed her hair back and laughed. "Oh, it's all right. I figured out that Penn is his son. You don't have to tiptoe around what I don't know."
Phillip smacked my shoulder. "What a relief."
Corsica was quiet all the way to the car, but as soon as I pointed us up the coast, she turned to me. "Phillip seems to believe the rift with your father will heal."
"Phillip's sentimental like th
at."
"Your friends take it for granted that you will get your fortune back. It's like they're waiting for everything to go back to normal."
They aren't the only ones, I thought. Then I gripped the steering wheel harder. "I can't go back, and I don't want anything that Xavier has to give me."
My statement was undermined by the fact that my father was at the house when we arrived. He was holding court at the kitchen island while his personal chef and two assistants unpacked crates of fresh groceries.
"Corsica, dear, your sauce was spectacular. We were just talking about it," Xavier said.
"So spectacular that you had to bring in professionals to save you?" she asked.
My father laughed and the sound grated my skin. "I just thought since everything is settling down a bit and we're all busy, it would be nice to have the kitchen fully stocked."
"That's a lot of leafy greens," I muttered.
"Well, your mother has inspired me to take another look at my diet," Xavier said. "And, it looks like Paul is happy for the change."
Paul, my father's personal chef, smiled as he continued to work. "Everything will be ready to go with easy instructions in here." He handed the leather-bound folder to Corsica. "And, I made sure to buy all the ingredients for your sauce. If there's no comfort food, he'll never survive."
Corsica climbed onto the stool next to my father and started flipping through the menu and instructions. "This is fantastic. I'm sure Alice will approve."
"Alice hates that I have a chef. She says you can't get what you need from food unless you prepare it yourself, have a real connection with the ingredients." Xavier grinned.
Corsica laughed. "How on earth did two such polar opposites ever meet in the first place?"
I got in the way of the kitchen staff until Paul handed me a beer. Then all I could do was lean against the counter in the corner and watch Corsica smile at my father. I didn't want to admit I was curious. I had never heard the story of how my parents met.
"The first start-up I ever invested in liked to have company retreats out in the desert down near Joshua Tree. I didn't intend to stay, but then I saw their guide.
“Alice was like a mirage, all flowing clothes the color of water. I told her I was an intern and everyone in the company had to go along with it. I stayed in the desert for three days just to be near her."
"Eating campfire food?" Paul asked, eyes wide with shock.
Xavier laughed. "What can I say? It was love at first sight."
Everyone was smiling at the story, but I couldn't feel it. All I noticed was that my parents' relationship had started with a lie.
Alice would have loved taking the lowest man on the food chain and lifting him up. I knew my father had been that start-up’s angel investor and they would have treated him like royalty or lied right alongside him to trick a compassionate woman.
Paul and his efficient assistants bundled up their crates and said goodbye. Corsica was talking to my father about the trumpet player that Bill knew. I wanted to tear her away from him, tell her again how he was the monster from my memories, but she was happy. So, I slipped away and was more than surprised when her slim hand caught my arm.
"How about we listen to a little music before we go to bed?" she asked.
"There's a stereo in my, our room," I said. It was like a dream to lead her down the hallway and into my suite. Xavier was finishing up work at the kitchen island and waved his goodnight. Corsica had to come with me to keep up our show.
It irked me how my own white lies reminded me of my father's story, but I was too happy to have her to myself to dwell on it.
Corsica quickly searched my music library and found the trumpet player Bill had mentioned. The music was mellow with the rhythm a lightly stirred drum and the trumpet as smooth as honey. It was the perfect excuse to draw her into my arms.
"The door's closed, we don't have to pretend," Corsica said as her arms slipped around my waist.
"What if I don't want to pretend anymore?"
Her lips met mine with a shock that kept my eyes open. Then, the taste of her, the soft contours, and the way her breath slipped in and out of mine had my eyes closing on a sigh of ecstasy.
Corsica gave in, her head leaning back to let me in. Her feet didn't resist as I backed her towards my bed. I laid her down, her lips still sparring with wet desire, and they didn't pull away when I leaned over her. Balanced on one arm, I let my other hand roam and found her arching her back to encourage my touch.
My hand was on the hem of her dress when my phone rang. I took my hand from her hot body and prepared to hurl the phone across the room. Then, I saw the caller and sat up.
"Shit. It's work. I have to take this," I said.
Corsica sprang up from the bed and headed to the door. "You're right. We should stick to business."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Penn - 12
I leaned on the counter and listened to the bacon sizzle. My coffee was cool, but I still sipped at it as I tried not to watch the door. I shifted and paced the length of the kitchen.
Cooking wasn't really my thing and breakfast had never been more than a granola bar. I walked back and jabbed at the bacon, telling myself it was just normal insomnia. It had nothing to do with Corsica storming out of my room.
She had been there, laid out across my bed, and the image of that had tortured me all night long.
I cracked eggs into the pan and scrambled them. Why not make toast, too? It was something to do since I couldn't sleep. I thought of all the mornings I had lounged around in bed reading the news and wondered if I would ever get back there.
Corsica was a morning person. Her door opened at almost the same early hour every morning and she went straight out the front door on a run. Then she came back smelling of salt air and the delicious musk of her own sweat.
My mouth watered as I dumped the bacon and eggs on a plate and ignored them. All I was doing was waiting for Corsica, and admitting it twisted something in my gut.
"Wow, it smells fantastic in here," she said, bursting in the front door.
"Go ahead, I'm not really hungry," I said.
"Up late working?" Corsica asked with a cool lift of her eyebrow. She snagged a piece of bacon off my plate and crunched it. "I didn't take you as an early riser."
Her hair was damp with sweat at the temples, her cheeks bright and warm, but her body was loose and relaxed. I kneaded at my own tight neck and felt the knot in my stomach cinch. Corsica was irresistible. She crunched the bacon and frowned as she fiddled with her pedometer and I wanted to press my lips to the faint crease in her forehead.
"Need a hand?" I stepped around the kitchen island and cornered her between two stools.
Corsica's nostrils flared, but she held out the device. "I like tracking the mileage, but somehow I lost today's run."
I took my time working through the menu and screens. The data was easy to retrieve, but I couldn't pry myself away from the warm sheen of her skin. "Here it is."
"Thanks," Corsica took her pedometer and moved to scoot around me.
I ignored her hint. "I never understood running."
Her soft lips frowned. "What's not to understand? It's a great workout with minimal equipment. And, you burn the most calories in a short amount of time."
"Sure, sure, it's practical. Are you really always so practical?" I caught her eyes.
Corsica tossed her hair. "As if you don't work out."
I liked the way she eyed my arm muscles, but when her gaze raked across my abs, the knot inside me burned. "I just like to have fun when I do it. There are plenty of fun ways to burn more calories than running."
"I don't have time for anything but running," Corsica said. She pushed past me and grabbed another piece of bacon. "My letters of recommendation came in. I have to polish up my resume and make sure my cover letter puts me on the top of the pile. I've got to send it in this morning."
I flipped my fork into my hand and picked at the scrambled eggs. "So, you
're not going to the audition?"
Corsica's eyes narrowed. "What audition?"
"Check your phone. I called the resort and booked you an audition. Bill got in touch with that trumpet player and he'll be there, too. Just in case you inspire him to put his trio back together."
Her cool facade burned off like morning fog. Corsica bounced back to the kitchen island and leaned across it. "You can't be serious. Are you?"
"What if I told you that was the phone call I took last night?"
Corsica studied me. "Liar. Nice try, though."
I groaned. "Fine, you caught me. But I'm not working now. Maybe we should finish what we started?"
She laughed in my face. "Sorry. Can't. I've got to get ready for my audition. I've got to pick a song and practice! This takes singing in the shower to a whole new level."
"I could help with that," I flung out.
Corsica rolled her eyes. "Stop teasing me. I have to concentrate. Do you think it would be too cheesy to sing one of his songs? Yeah, probably. Though, I was really enjoying that album last night."
"I'd be happy to play it for you again." I knew there was a hint of desperation in my voice, but I didn't care. There was no way I would be able to get anything done until I got Corsica out of my system.
She lifted herself across the counter and kissed my cheek. Before I could catch her hands and turn it into a real kiss, she slipped away with a bright smile. "Thank you for getting me the audition! I know you probably just want to get me out of your hair so you can work, but I really appreciate it."
"That's not-" It was too late. Corsica was already bounding away on her long legs. "How about I come with you to the club? Take you out afterward to celebrate?" I called.
She didn't answer, and I sunk against the counter. I knew she was excited, but I couldn't believe she wouldn't even make plans with me. I slashed at the scrambled eggs. Corsica was right: now I had time to work. I dumped the eggs into the garbage. Too bad work was the last thing on my mind.
I needed fresh air. More than that, I needed to get away from the siren song of Corsica practicing in the shower, and the slick and torturous images that brought to mind.
