I don’t realize he didn’t ask me to sit with him until I already am, and I panic for a moment, my eyes searching out an approaching girlfriend. Being this close to his chiseled jaw gives me mini eye orgasms. There’s no way this man isn’t already taken.
Almost as if he senses my discomfort, he sinks deeper into his corner of the couch and throws an arm across the back. The top half of his body is covered by a thin button down blue striped shirt, the sleeves up to his elbows. The wind creates a slight dip in the temperature at night here and while he’d be too hot during the day, it’s perfect for these cooler evenings.
Nervous with all the visual attention and not wanting to be caught staring at him, I clear my throat. I stick one leg under me on the couch, in a half Indian-style pose, and turn toward him.
“I hope you’re feeling better… you know… from…… um.” I stumble over my thoughts but wave my hand in the general direction of his junk.
His smile grows in size. “You mean are my balls feeling better after you tried to take them home with you?”
My eyes go wide at his comment. I open my mouth to respond but only produce a squeak. He throws his head back and releases a boisterous laugh at my expression. Realizing he isn’t angry, I join him in the moment. I’m not sure which is funnier, my inability to say the words or his blatant honesty with our earlier situation.
His beer sits on the end table behind him, and I try a better approach to break the ice. “Can I get you another beer?” It feels like the least I can do for the guy.
He reaches behind him to recapture the abandoned beverage. “Sorry. Your elbow may have roughly fondled me earlier, but I can’t accept a drink from a girl I don’t know.”
His joke breaks away more of my tension and I lean toward him with my hand extended. “Simone Stevens.”
Our hands connect and the warmth from his fingers reminds me how cold I’ve become in the short time I’ve spent on the couch. I’ll have to go back upstairs to get a jacket eventually, but I don’t want to leave here without his name first.
“Trey Good. It’s nice to meet you, Simone.” My name rolls off his tongue when he puts extra emphasis on the “one” making it sound almost dirty. If my mouth had been open, I might have been caught in a moan.
I’m reluctant to pull away, but I shiver from a sweep of breeze roaming through the patio we’ve taken up residence in. From the way Trey inspects his clothing for a moment, he must have noticed my chill but doesn’t have anything to offer me. The thought seems to make him remorseful if his pursed lips when his head raises are anything to go by.
My libido tempts me to ask for his button down shirt. I could easily make some comment about how the light blue shirt would pair well with my pink tank top, but I can’t openly flirt with someone I’m not sure is single. Plus, I didn’t feel anything with my elbow jab earlier today, but my ninja skills may strike fear in his manly bits now. At least that’s what I tell myself. It will make any impending rejection easier to handle.
“So where are you from, Simone?” He says my name again with his question, but it doesn’t sound as risqué this time.
Before I answer, a waiter in the standard hotel polo and black pants walks past our couch. Trey reaches a hand out and waves him in our direction.
“What are you having?” he asks.
“I thought I was buying?”
He doesn’t answer my question with words, but the pinched, straight-faced look he tosses my direction tells me not to fight it. And for some ridiculous untold reason I don’t. “Get me a Long Island, please.”
“Two Long Islands and a blanket for my lady,” Trey directs the waiter and turns back to our conversation.
I almost release a stupid girly laugh at the “my lady” part, but I get ahold of myself in time. I’m back to normal before I speak. “You didn’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.”
Trey slides his thumb back and forth on his jaw line as his eyes noticeably travel up and down my body, stopping at my chest to linger. “Let’s let me do what I need to do, okay?”
His not-so-cryptic comment about my hard nipples causes my face to heat. I wrap my arms around my sides to try and cover up the evidence before they poke through my tank top more. My B-cups have never felt so large and in the way before. Plus, I’m not sure if it’s the temperature or his gaze that’s to blame for my current condition.
In a hurry to change the topic, I fill the silence with my answer for Trey’s earlier question. People seem to think life in New York City is a whirlwind of excitement, but in my case it mostly involves working. I explain my job title might be “Executive Assistant,” but I’m more of a gopher. My days — and sometimes nights — are spent making sure my bosses’ clients are satisfied with our financial services.
You’d think it would be simple since I work for a financial firm, copy some papers here or there, but over the last five years I’ve done it all. From shopping for a million-dollar apartment with Mrs. Peterson to buying a new Aston Martin Vantage GT in green for Mr. Clark.
High profile clients often come with high profile problems, which is why I get paid so much to make sure every detail is taken care of before issues arise. It’s also why I’ve purchased every birthday, Christmas, Valentines, and anniversary gift for the wives of more than one of my male clients. If I’m truthful, there are a few mistresses on my gift list too. I’m paid to not ask questions.
It’s not how I planned to use my accounting degree after graduation, but a girl needs to eat. I like food. Food is expensive in the city… along with everything else.
My description of Clark’s face when he realized he couldn’t drive the stick shift, but he’d already signed on the dotted line for his brand new pretty Vantage has us both laughing.
“I drove the car home for him and then set him up private lessons with a tutor the next day.” My face hurts from how far my lips have stretched as we’ve talked. I can’t remember the last time I smiled so much.
Trey wipes his finger under his eye, any earlier awkwardness between us fizzled away while I talked. “God, that’s hilarious. I have a buddy who bought a house boat before he realized he suffers from sea sickness. They could be friends.”
Our laughter fades as I run out of good stories. I’ve barely eaten up five minutes. I fidget with the ends of my tank top. “Enough about my crazy life. What do you do?”
Trey leans back in his seat and is silent, almost as if he’s deciding what he plans to tell me in advance. “I’m pretty much one of those rich assholes you deal with.”
I chuckle at his expression and serious tone until more time passes and I notice he isn’t laughing with me.
CHAPTER THREE
“You’re kidding right?” I ask as I get control of myself again.
Before Trey answers our waiter returns, our drinks on his black round tray and a blue Mexican blanket thrown over his arm. I’ve seen blankets similar to these all over with their various striped patterns. They seem to be on sale everywhere, but I haven’t picked one up yet.
The waiter hands me a plastic neon green cup and I place it on the edge of the fire pit while the blanket is wrapped around my back and over my shoulders to create a shawl. The fabric is thick and firm, a little scratchy, but it keeps the wind from my bare skin.
Trey hasn’t continued his answer even as the waiter walks away leaving us alone again, so I decide to prod him along. “Are you from New York? What do you do?”
He breathes in a large gulp of air before the words rattle out of him. “I’m CEO for a digital arts company in San Francisco. We make apps and computer games. I’m not crazy like apparently New Yorkers, but I did make our receptionist order my mom flowers last week after I missed a dinner with her. I might not be much higher up the totem pole.”
“I hope your receptionist knew what she was doing. The trick is to keep the cards short and sweet. If you get too flowery, the wife — or in your case, mom — will figure it out. Then you’re in more trouble.” I try to lighten the
mood.
It works as Trey laughs a little with my advice. “If she doesn’t quit like the last one, I’ll make sure and tell her.”
“I’m not big on games, but does your company have any I’d know of?”
“We’re creating a few small in-house apps right now and looking to enter a few new fields. We’re probably most known for Dragons Reborn. Have you heard of it?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh at him. “Heard of it? Yeah, my little cousin refused to eat Christmas dinner last year because he was playing the game. It was quite the topic of discussion for my family. He uses his allowance every month to pay for the subscription cost. My aunt was not happy when my dad gifted him a free year.”
“I can’t think of a better Christmas gift.” Trey’s lazy smile is back. “Anyway, we sold Dragons Reborn last year and moved on to smaller projects. This vacation is my reward for getting the company finalized and running smoothly. It’s been hard on all of us.” His head falls back to rest on the leather couch as he looks to the darkened sky.
His mention of selling the game sparks another memory from Christmas. I don’t remember the exact number, but if Matt, my cousin, was right the game sold for over a billion dollars. Maybe more. The most for any game in the history of gaming. Whoever owned the game rights when the sale happened is now a very rich man. Or maybe the company in general, but they can definitely afford to send Trey on an all-expenses-paid trip to the Bahamas.
My fingers twitch to grab my phone and search Trey’s name, but I still them by asking the question I’ve had on my tongue all day before I think better of it. “You came on vacation alone?” I immediately regret my word choice, but I’ll feel better when I know one way or the other.
By his laugh he doesn’t take any offense to my quest for more information. “Yes. I think Finn, my best friend and company owner, wanted me out of his hair for a while. But I’ll admit it’s nice here. I’m not sure I’m ready to go back to the cooler temperatures yet.”
A silence settles between us and I want to chase it away before it becomes awkward, but of course the only topics I think of revolve around how much his company’s game sold for. I don’t care about the money. You can’t get much farther away from New York than San Francisco, so I’m not worried he’d think I’m some kind of vacation gold digger, but the unspoken facts of his story seem to share the space between us.
Trey lifts his glass to his lips to take a drink, and a tail on one side of the neon green cup catches my eye. It takes me longer than it should, but I finally put the pieces together and practically shout at him once I figure it out. “Is there a cat on your cup?” I lean closer and turn his cup slightly to see the full image. “It is!”
I glance to the fire pit and retrieve my own matching cup to get a better look at the image. In the middle, two pieces of text arch to form an almost circle. The top piece reads “Tom’s Tiki Lounge” while the bottom lists a website for Tom’s. The middle of the circle is the most amazing. Smack dab between the two font arches, in full color, is a picture of a grey striped tabby cat sitting upright.
Trey turns his own cup to see what I’m so excited about. “It’s a cat?”
“Yes. Isn’t it the most random thing you’ve ever seen?”
He takes a drink from the cup and shrugs, I assume saying the liquor is fine. “I guess Tom likes cats.”
His easy acceptance of the situation makes me giggle and we spend a few minutes making up new, more fitting names for the bar. “The Cat’s Meow” the most suitable. Trey promises to find a comment card and make the name suggestion before our trips end in three days.
**
“So we agree then. I’ll pick you up here at 10 o’clock tomorrow morning.” Trey’s body leans toward me closing the distance as we stand in the hallway outside my parents’ suite.
“Agreed.” The words are quiet, but he tilts his head in acceptance at them.
Trey steps the final length to stand beside me as I lean against the green wallpapered hallway. His arm, from wrist to elbow, props him next to me holding his cat glass as his other hand settles on my shoulder. “And you’ll wear the same cute little black bikini you had on this afternoon?”
I giggle at the way his eyes roam over me with the question. It’s the alcohol. I would never giggle like this if I wasn’t under the influence. “That was yesterday. It's definitely past midnight now.”
“Just say yes, Simone,” he makes my name sound sexual again as his tongue rubs the corner of his lips.
I tilt my head up to get a better look at him. Most of our time tonight was spent sitting on the white leather couch outside, so it isn’t until now that I clock how tall he is. When I have to look up at someone, you can guarantee they’re over six feet.
Trey moves his head to lock eyes with mine and his arm swivels to move his body closer. He peers down at me and the new position lines up our lips. One quick move and I’d easily be kissing him. I’d rub my hand along his jaw and let the small beard he's maintained bite into my hand. I want to do all of those things, but something holds me back. Could a simple kiss change it all?
Neither of us moves. My body screams for me to inch forward a little bit and close the space between us, but I continue to hesitate, for all those unknown reasons. As un-feminist as it sounds, I want Trey to make the first move.
“God, I want to kiss you, but it would never work between us. I’m in San Francisco and you’re in New York.” Trey’s body leaves mine and I want to cry out at the loss of more than just body heat.
I wrap the blanket tighter around me before I sip the last of my third Long Island from the cup in my hand. “So? Let’s make it a vacation fling. We won’t even exchange phone numbers,” I suggest to the wall behind Trey’s back. No eye contact will make it easier in case he turns me down.
I can’t believe I just suggested that, but then his face perks up and the light in his eyes returns before they meet mine with skepticism. “You’re okay with that? A vacation fling? Nothing more? Are you sure?”
I’m not sure. In fact, the only thing I’m sure of is that I’ll probably kick myself for my earlier suggestion when it comes time to board my flight. But at the moment, the tequila and I think it’s a great idea. We’ve decided it’s better to have him for even a few days than not at all.
I nod my head and promise I’m perfectly fine with my own suggestion. Trey’s mouth is on mine before the final words move across my lips. His body comes to rest on top of mine with one leg between my thighs. It happens so fast there's no time to prepare for his advances. I relax into the kiss as his mouth opens seeking entrance to mine. As our tongues duel, I let go of my death grip on the blanket and wrap my hands around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to me.
Trey’s head falls to my neck and he begins to plaster kisses from my ear to my jaw. Then he licks a small line with the tip of his tongue on the way up. My body shivers from the contact and I push a little closer to him.
“Damn! That’s some kind of kiss.” My sister’s voice carries across the empty space in the hallway, jarring us from our moment.
Trey steps back and I flash my sister the best pissed off look I have in my arsenal. “Elena, what the hell?” I try not to screech at her, but the words still come off a higher pitch than my normal voice.
She shrugs and then leans her body against the door frame, obviously not going anywhere. My left hand still has a piece of Trey’s blue shirt firmly in its grasp and I reluctantly release it, unsure when I grabbed it in the first place. My blue blanket lays on the floor around my ankles and I reach to pick it up.
“Trey, this is my annoying little sister, Elena. Elena, Trey.” I move away from the wall and stand in the middle of the hall with my back to Elena.
Trey chuckles once, but it’s humorless. “I should go anyway.”
His hand slides across his jaw and he steps away from the wall. I sigh, not wanting the night to end. Is it so much to ask that a hot guy be allowed to ravish me in the hallway on vacatio
n? Isn’t there some island Goddess I could pray to? Sacrifice a little sister? I have one available.
I struggle for something to say so I can prolong the moment. “I’ll throw away your cup.”
His eyes move to the cup in question as it now rests on its side. “Don’t worry. I’ll toss it in my room.”
He quickly steps forward and places a kiss on my cheek on the side away from my sister. “I’ll see you at ten, Simone.” And then he turns on a heel and walks back to the elevator leaving me with Elena.
CHAPTER FOUR
The white sand from the open beach in front of us crunches under my feet with each step, my flip-flops sending the tiny shell particles flying behind me. Trey walks a few steps in front with my big white SeaBag tote slung over his shoulder, and a pink beach towel flops against the blue and green stripes on the bag with each of his steps.
We continue for a few more paces before Trey stops and turns back to me. “I’m pretty sure our guy will meet us along the beach over there.” He points to his right at some unknown landmark in the distance. We hit the edge of the water and begin to head in the direction he pointed, my steps easier now on the dense wet sand.
“A pretty ride for a pretty lady?” A heavily accented voice comes from behind causing Trey and me to turn together.
Behind us a shorter dark-skinned man stands a few inches into the water. The surf pushes past his calves as each wave comes ashore. His jean shorts are wet on the hem, but the bright blue Hawaiian button up shirt he wears is dry. Noticing our interest, his hand shoots out pointing farther into the water where a yellow jet ski bounces along the waves. “Take your lady on the ride of her life.” He nods in Trey’s direction. “A hundred bucks for an hour. You won’t get a better deal.”
Trey takes a step closer to the beach salesman and shifts the beach bag to his other shoulder. “Not today, thanks.” He calmly rejects the offer and makes to turn, but not before he reaches out and grabs my hand in his, our fingers wrapping together.
Lag (The Boys of RDA Book 2) Page 2
