Miss Guided: a Guide to Love novella

by Adams, Alexia

  “Sounds wonderful, although I’m not sure about a swim. With all the food I’ve just eaten, I’m sure to sink like a stone. That was the best breakfast I’ve ever had, Mrs. St. Ives,” Marcus said.

  Her aunt beamed at his comment. “Please call me Gloria, or Aunt Gloria if you prefer.” Obviously Crescy hadn’t been able to disguise her interest in Marcus and her aunt was already preparing to welcome Marcus into the family. She needed to remind Aunt Gloria that he was a tourist.

  “Don’t you want to get back to your resort? The beach is much nicer there. Here it’s full of seaweed and other debris carried in by the waves.” Hospitality be dammed, it was now a question of self-preservation.

  Marcus shrugged. “I told you last night I’d rather see real island life than the sterilized, groomed version they churn out at the resort. If you don’t want to take me…”

  “Of course she does,” Aunt Gloria chimed in. “She goes there every day. And Marcus has accepted my invitation to dinner. He’s not had a proper St. Lucian meal yet.”

  “We ate at Roland’s last night. He had rice ‘n peas and goat.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ like your auntie’s chicken,” Uncle Robert added.

  Marcus raised his eyebrow but remained silent, leaving the decision to her. His hair was still damp from his shower, an errant curl sitting on his brow, adding to the impish grin on his face.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay and watch more cricket with Uncle?”

  “I think I’ve got the gist of the game. And your uncle gave me his phone number, so if I come across something when I’m writing my book, I can call and ask an expert.”

  Uncle Robert’s chest puffed out at the idea of being considered a cricket expert and adding to the book. Marcus was a charming guest, and her aunt and uncle didn’t get out much since the heart attack. In fact, her uncle looked so much better with someone to take his mind off his recent illness. She’d be selfish to deny them the opportunity to have some outside company.

  She sucked in a deep breath. “I would love to show you my beach,” she said.

  Half an hour later, she wasn’t so sure. She’d put on her most modest swimsuit, but it was still a bikini and showed way too much flesh. Skin, which at the moment, was screaming out for Marcus’s touch. Even though she still had on her aunt’s ugly dress, it was as if he had Superman’s X-ray vision and could see through to what lay beneath. She thought back to his eyes on her chest when she’d inadvertently flashed him when delivering the coffee earlier. Now she was paying the price; her breasts ached for his hands to touch what his eyes had caressed.

  He wore the swim trunks that had featured in several erotic daydreams yesterday. Her eyes swept over him, and a definite tenting appeared at the front of the already tight fabric.

  “I’m going to have to risk drowning to cool off,” he said. “Are you coming?”

  “In more ways than one,” she muttered, then stripped off her dress and followed him toward the sea. Last night’s storm had thrown even more than the usual debris onto the beach so they picked their way across the seaweed and coconut husks. Once in the water, he dived in, swimming with strong strokes that showed off his muscles. She didn’t have the energy to chase after him so she floated in the warm water, watching the clouds pass overhead. Strong hands grabbed her waist and pulled her against a tall, hard body.

  “It’s no good,” Marcus whispered into her ear.

  “What’s no good? The beach? We can go to another, but it will be crowded.” She gave up trying to resist him and let herself melt against him, her back to his chest, their legs tangling in the water. At least he was able to stand. Otherwise, she probably would have drowned because her muscles refused to cooperate. His hands crept up her sides till they rested under her breasts.

  “The beach is fine. It’s no good trying to resist you. I want you so bad, Crescy. You’re all I can think about.”

  “Marcus…” she moaned as his thumbs brushed over her sensitive nipples. He bent his head and licked the salt water from her neck.

  “Five minutes. I want five minutes to touch and taste you.”

  She nodded dumbly. His hands slid under her bikini top, squeezing and molding her breasts. His fingers plucked and caressed her hardened nipples until she thought she might pass out. One hand slipped back down her waist and into her bottoms where his fingers rubbed and teased until she hung on the edge of oblivion.

  “Marcus,” she gasped when his fingers slid inside her. He spun her around so she was facing him. She was about to protest the loss of his touch when his fingers began their magic again, only this time his mouth was on her breast. As he sucked and licked her now naked chest, his fingers increased the tempo, sliding in and out of her in rhythm with the waves. She was panting heavily, her weight supported by Marcus and the buoyant water.

  Waves of sensations crashed through her until a tsunami flooded her whole body with pleasure. She repeated his name over and over again, the one word that would form in her overwhelmed brain, until his lips covered hers. She bit back a cry of disappointment when he set her back on her feet and swam away.

  Her little patch of heaven had just crept a bit closer to the real thing.

  Chapter 5

  After ten minutes of searching, she finally spotted her bikini top lapping against the shore, taunting her for her weakness. She struggled to the beach, her legs as firm as seaweed. Snatching up her top, she put it on before clearing a spot and plonking herself down on a towel. She stared at the palm fronds waving against the blue sky. Despite being out of the water, she still felt like she was floating. She’d never come so hard and so fast, and it left her dazed.

  She sat up on her elbows and watched Marcus swim parallel to the shore. He was clearly attempting to exercise off his own frustrated desire. He’d waved away her clumsy offer to assist him, saying the joy he’d experienced seeing her passion was enough for him.

  A few minutes later he strode from the sea, rivulets of water streaming down his hard body. If there was ever a moment to remember forever, this was it. She could hardly believe he was here with her, on this secluded beach.

  He stretched out on the towel next to her, and said nothing for several minutes.

  “How can you bear to leave this and live in New York?”

  “When I’m here, I feel something is missing. When I’m there, I feel something is missing. Here I have a life; there I have a career. I just haven’t figured out how to marry the two.”

  “How did you end up in law?”

  “My father is American and offered to put me through university. I was a teenager, and angry at him, at life, so I blurted out that I wanted to study law at Harvard. I guess I wanted to see if he would really pay, or if he was just talk.” She’d wanted to see if he would do for her what he’d never done for her mother—last more than two weeks. When the acceptance letter arrived from the illustrious university she knew she’d have to go. This was her one and only chance to make up for the dreams her mother had given up when she found she was pregnant from her holiday romance. She did it in memory of her mother. And in the end, ruined another woman’s life.

  “What kind of law do you practice?”

  “Criminal law. I’m a public defender.”

  “And you can’t do that here?”

  “Probably, but having spent years at school and then articling, I didn’t want to start at the bottom again, especially since it’s not something I’m sure I still want to do.”

  He nodded as though understanding her. So many hadn’t.

  “Who’s Dion?” His voice was so soft, so low, for a moment she thought she’d misheard.

  A chill swept through her. “Where did you hear that name?”

  “You muttered it in your sleep, begging him to stop. Was he your boyfriend? Did he hurt you?” The words were spoken with such force she had no doubt if she replied in the affirmative, Marcus would seek him out and thrash him on her behalf.

  “He was a client. And the reason
I’m here.”

  Marcus turned on his side to face her and propped his head on his hand. “What happened, Crescy?”

  The way he said her name, the intimacy of the moment, the understanding and compassion in his eyes, made her want to explain. To confess.

  “Dion isn’t a very nice person. I was assigned to defend him in an aggravated assault charge. He’d beaten up a young man at a deli because he’d put mayonnaise and not mustard on his sandwich. The deli boy spent three weeks in hospital and will likely have a permanent disability.”

  “And you had to defend this man?”

  “Yes, it was my job. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. It’s the basis of the American justice system.” She should have refused the case, but she didn’t have the seniority. She should have quit.

  “What happened? Did he attack you?”

  “No. The state’s lawyer was very green and not very good. He messed the case up so bad, misfiling evidence. For God’s sake, they had a video of the attack and he didn’t present it.”

  “Dion got off?”

  “Yes. I have to represent my client to the best of my ability, or I lose my license to practice law. It should have been an open and shut case. I prepared to have him plead to a lesser charge for a reduced sentence. However, the prosecution was so bad I couldn’t, in honest conscience, suggest it.”

  “You did your job, Crescy. It was the other lawyer who screwed up.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his finger lingering for a moment on her skin.

  “Yes, I know, but the very day he was released, within two hours of leaving the courtroom, he beat up his landlady, a woman in her late sixties. She’s still in a coma in hospital. If I’d have convinced him to make the plea, then he’d have still been in custody and that woman would be safe.” The tight band around her chest increased another notch.

  He caressed her cheek, offering her comfort. She turned her head and pressed her lips against his palm. When she’d told both her boss and her ex-boyfriend, a colleague, what had happened, they’d simply shrugged and said sometimes that was the way it worked out. How did a man she’d known less than two days understand more than a man she’d dated for three months?

  “I’m so sorry. For you, and the landlady.”

  “Thank you.”

  There was nothing else to say. He took her hand and they both lay back and watched the fluffy white clouds float across the blue sky. She forced her body to relax, but her mind refused to stop churning. How the hell had she managed to succumb to the charms of a man she’d only met yesterday? In a few hours she’d take him back to his resort, say goodbye, and never see him again. Just the thought alone made her chest feel like someone was sitting on her. But what was the alternative? A holiday affair? What if she fell in love with him and saying goodbye a week from now left her even more broken? Her life was in turmoil enough as it was. She needed to sort out her career before she could deal with her love life, or lack thereof.

  Damn, she obviously shared more than a fondness for banana fritters with her mother. Why did it have to be a weakness for American tourists?

  ***

  Marcus stepped under the stinging spray of cold water in the shower at the resort. At least there was more water pressure here than at Crescy’s place. Yet, he’d give almost anything to be back there again. He’d already stepped too close to the edge, felt too much. He liked to keep his affairs light and fun. With Crescy, though, the need had been overwhelming, the specter of loss too real. The last thing he wanted was to get involved to the point where one of them got hurt.

  When they’d returned to her aunt and uncle’s place he’d been surprised to find a dozen other relatives had also stopped by for dinner. Whether because he was there, or it was a regular family thing, he wasn’t sure. Although judging by the remarkable recovery Uncle Robert seemed to make, it was a lack of people around him that had affected him more than his heart attack.

  Crescy’s family accepted Marcus like one of their own and within minutes of meeting he knew more about them than he did his own step-family. Through a series of discussions, none of which had been initiated by himself, he’d even learned the story of Crescy’s birth and that she hadn’t met her father until well after her mother died.

  She was the product of a holiday affair. It was ironic that that was all he could offer her—as much as he might want otherwise. He’d been an idiot to think he could romance a woman and then hand her over to his brother to continue the relationship. There was no way Liam could have her now. No way could Marcus look across a dinner table and not picture the rapture on her face as passion had taken her in the water. No way could he forget the taste of her, the feel of her. No, Liam couldn’t have her. But neither could he. It wasn’t right to tempt a woman to fall in love with a man who was on his way out.

  They’d only met thirty-six hours ago and he knew he’d never forget Crescentia St. Ives. She’d be the smile on his lips as he closed his eyes for the last time.

  He shut off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist. The way his memories and thoughts were flowing, he’d need another cold shower in about twenty minutes. A knock at his door had him checking the time. He’d taken a taxi from Crescy’s place, insisting he didn’t need to be driven back to the resort. He was pretty sure if she’d driven him back he’d have invited her up to his room. If she’d come, then at this very moment they’d be burning up the sheets on the king size bed. And he wouldn’t be trying to douse the flames of passion under a steady stream of frigid water.

  He checked through the peek hole and was surprised to see his younger brother. Pulling the door open, he grabbed the towel before it fell to the floor.

  Liam took one look at him and laughed. “Sorry to interrupt. Just wanted to let you know I’m back. I’ll see you in the morning, maybe.”

  “No, don’t go. I’m alone.” He stepped back so Liam could enter and then shut the door.

  Liam stared at him and he stared back. His brother looked like hell, as if he hadn’t slept since he left, which he probably hadn’t. At this rate, Liam would be beating him to the funeral home.

  “Cold shower? That bad?” Liam had always been observant.

  “Yeah. Things did not work out how I intended. Hold on a second while I get dressed. Want to go down to the bar and get a drink?” He was already walking through to the bedroom and ignored his brother’s chortle.

  “You drink? Must be bad. Alright, I need a shower as well. Although I think I’ll use some hot water. See you in the bar in twenty minutes.”

  Half an hour later, Marcus cradled a glass of whiskey and watched Liam flirt with the plastic blonde who had worn the white bikini and high heels around the pool on their first day at the resort. Eventually, his brother sauntered over to where Marcus was perched on a bar stool and ordered a rum.

  “Hard spirits, you are upset. What happened? Did you decide the lovely tour guide wouldn’t suit me at all and now you don’t think I’ll ever fall in love?” Liam turned his back to the bar and surveyed the bounty of beauties before them, as if they were all parading for his pleasure.

  “No, she’s not right for you,” Marcus said and left it at that.

  “But perfect for you.” Liam pierced him with his brown eyes as though he’d nailed him to the back wall. They’d never been able to hide anything from each other.

  “In a different life,” he said with a shrug and took another sip of his whiskey. He’d have to remember to up his dosage of meds to counteract the effect of the alcohol. For tonight, he didn’t care.

  “What’s wrong with this one, aside from the obvious?” Liam put his drink down on the bar and stared at his brother. “You think you don’t deserve happiness, for however long you’ve got?”

  “It’s not about me. It’s about her. It’s not fair going into a relationship knowing at any minute I could be gone.”

  Liam swallowed and took a large gulp of his drink. Marcus knew he hated discussing this, hated facing the reality that his ol
der brother was dying. He expected Liam to end the conversation there. They’d have a drink, flirt with a few women, then both go up alone to their rooms and live to play another day, hopefully.

  “Marcus, you’ve dealt with this better than anyone I know, and I admire you for it. But in this area I think you’re wrong. Be honest with the woman and give her the chance to say whether she can handle it or not. Who knows how many years of happiness you may still have? You’re special, brother. You have so much love and compassion to give, my life is a testament to that. It’s not right you should hide it all away because some quack thinks you won’t last much longer. You’ve proved everyone wrong so far. Who’s to say you won’t outlive us all?”

  “Liam…”

  “That’s all I’m going to say. Just think about it.” He picked up his drink, took another swallow, then pointed at a busty brunette who was flipping her hair from side to side. Another plastic bimbo. “Think I’ll go see if she wants another drink.” With that, Liam was off.

  Marcus swirled the whiskey in his glass and stared into the drink. It had been a long time since he’d railed against the unfairness of his life, but tonight he felt definitely cheated.

  ***

  Crescy tossed and turned, her little bed protesting the action until she was sure her uncle was going to yell at her through the wall to be quiet.

  “Your mother never regretted the affair that resulted in you.” Her uncle’s words, which she’d heard in various ways throughout her life, played over and over in her head. Except she wasn’t her mother. She didn’t have it in her to just enjoy the moment without thinking ahead to the time when it would all be over. Every memory would be tainted with the realization that this would be the last time… But lying here, missing Marcus, wishing she could see him once more, wasn’t cutting it either. And their situation was vastly different to her parents. They had met when her father was twenty-one, still in college, and her mother only nineteen. Both parties had gone into the relationship wanting just the two weeks of fun, turning a blind eye to the potential consequences of their actions.