by AJ Matthews
“Oh, geez,” she panted, dropping her hands to his chest, fingering his nipples through his crisp shirt.
This was going to happen. It might only be a sex thing for him, but maybe that’s all it was for her, too. It had been too long; she was done resisting.
She wanted Marcus inside her again, badly. There was no denying it.
“Who is that guy?” Marcus demanded, his lips and tongue still working her mouth.
“Relax,” she said, between his kisses. “Sam is my brother. He insisted we come here. He took Aliah to her senior Prom. They seem to have a thing for each other.”
Marcus’s hand left her jaw, moved to her shoulder, cupped her breast as the fingers of the other began to tease between her buttocks in little circles, making their way to increasingly sensitive areas. Cami pressed her back against the inside of the phone booth, grappling for space. “This is never going to work, Marcus.”
“That’s Sam?” Marcus asked, completely unfazed, now moving from her mouth to her neck, flicking his way along her collarbone.
“Yeah. Marcus, this is crazy,” Camy panted.
“This isn’t crazy, Cami, this is how it is,” Marcus answered, his fingers teasing her crotch as he kissed her like the old days.
“How what is?”
“How we are. If you don’t it by now, darling, I can’t spell it out for you. You’re mine. You and I are meant to be, and I won’t have it any other way.”
About the Author
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"When not tapping away at my laptop dreaming up female leads in sassy dialogue with dashing male counterparts, I'm strolling the Truckee River with my new rescue Daschuahua, Sir Edwin Saint Francis Chesapeake, paddleboarding on Lake Tahoe or skiing Squaw. Pets feature prominently in my life and they're always in my novels, too. After all, a girl is only as good as the horse, pup, kitty or chicken she comes home to!"
Copyright © 2017 by Joyce Ward
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. Participation in any aspect of piracy of copyrighted materials, inclusive of the obtainment of this book through non-retail or other unauthorized means, is in actionable violation of the author’s rights.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and registered trademark owners or all branded names referenced without TM, SM, or ® symbols due to formatting restraints, and is not claiming ownership of or collaboration with said trademark brands.
Chapter One
After surviving a harrowing flight, riddled with jarring turbulence and a prayer-inducing electrical storm, Dana King closed the fashion magazine she’d been perusing, rested her head against the airline seat and waited for the plane to land.
“Well, that was an interesting experience,” her husband said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “How much did this trip set us back?”
“I don’t know, Vince.” She knew the answer, but decided not to mention the dollar amount. Sometimes things were best left unsaid—especially since the difficult flight had turned her husband into a first class grouch.
He sighed heavily, shifted in his seat, and finished off his fifth or sixth gin and tonic. “Yeah, right.”
No one needed a vacation more than Vince. She’d hoped to schedule time off during the fall or winter, but with no pressing movie projects in the near future, Dana had worked with the dates he was available and booked the flight for June. Buying tickets so close to their departure, first class tickets were gone and she had to settle for business class.
She’d worked hard to find an exotic location where she hoped to rekindle the passion they’d felt years ago—before Vince King became a household name. Back then, they may have had less than twenty dollars between them, but they had each other.
The plane taxied to a stop.
Although the seatbelt sign was still illuminated and the announcement had been made not to power up electrical devices, Vince undid his seatbelt and turned on his cell phone. “Damn, no signal.” He shoved the cell into the breast pocket of the green and blue tropical shirt she’d bought for the trip.
Bluster as he may now, Dana knew that once they were settled in their hotel suite, he’d calm down. Thinking about the negligees she’d bought for their getaway brought a smile to her lips.
Vince jumped from the aisle seat. Reaching into the overhead bin, he retrieved his wheeled briefcase, set it in the aisle, and stood in line behind the first class passengers.
“Come on, Dana, let’s get this show on the road,” he said, slipping on a pair of Prada sunglasses.
His brusque tone killed her mood. Disappointed in his attitude, she bit back a sigh, her eyes watering. At that moment, she decided that if he refused to work on their marriage while on their getaway, she’d pay a visit to her lawyer when they returned to Los Angeles. Ten years was long enough to play second fiddle to his career.
“Vince?”
“Huh?” he asked, looking at her for the first time since they’d landed.
She managed a small smile. “We’ll have a good time. I promise.”
“I know.” He curled his index finger under her chin. “Come here.” When she moved closer, he brushed his lips against hers.
They made their way toward the exit. The flight attendant opened the door and a blast of hot air whooshed inside the plane.
“It’s like a damn oven outside,” he said.
Dana rested her forehead on Vince’s back and waited for the line to start moving. Once the passengers inched toward the exit, she lifted her head and waited her turn to deplane.
“Let’s get outta here,” Vince said.
“Welcome to Caribes,” the beautiful, young flight attendant said.
“Thank you.” Dana stepped out of the plane. The scorching heat sucked the air out of her lungs and she gasped to catch her breath.
Vince cursed.
Descending the stairs, the sun beat on Dana’s shoulders. The stifling heat, along with the tropical humidity weighed her down as she made her way across the tarmac. Waves of heat rose from the pavement and worked their way through the soles of her red sandals, making each step more painful than the last.
When they reached the terminal, Vince held open the glass door. She burst inside the air-conditioned building, pulled off her shoes, and stood barefoot on the cool tile—a welcome relief for the fire burning on the bottoms of her feet.
“Seriously, Dana, I thought you booked us a trip to an island. You sure the travel agent didn’t send us to Hell instead?” He pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiped sweat from his brow.
Inside the terminal, every conversation stopped. No great surprise when everyone turned to stare at the big guy. Not only was Vince an award-winning movie producer, whose face had been plastered on covers of entertainment magazines for years, but at six foot four, he stood out in any crowd.
Before drawing more unwanted attention by Vince becoming completely unglued, Dana decided to make light of the situation. “We couldn’t be in Hell. I believe Hell would have dry heat.” She slipped into her sandals. “Let’s pick up the car while we wait for our luggage.”
“First, let me check for a signal.” He retrieved his cell and turned it on. “Bingo. We’re back in business. How about you?”
<
br /> Dana turned on her phone and got the same result.
He blew out a slow whistle. “Twenty missed calls. Twice as many missed texts.”
“Please, Vince.” She touched his arm. “It’s too noisy. Can’t you wait to answer them?”
He scanned the terminal. “Suppose you’re right.” He began typing. “I’m just letting the studio know we made it in one piece.”
Always the studio.
With no children to contact, Dana made a mental note to text her sister in Chicago and her best friend and assistant in L.A. at the first opportunity.
Making their way through the terminal, they passed several large, colorful posters advertising Caribes’ upcoming annual barbeque and carnival. Across the lobby, a sign above the counter read: Luxury Car Rental.
“It’d better be ready.” Vince lumbered over to the rental counter. But, when he spotted the gorgeous, twenty-something Caribbean woman wearing a strapless yellow sundress behind the counter, his mood did a complete one-eighty.
A twinge of jealousy poked holes in Dana’s fragile self-confidence. Even though she’d voiced concerns to him about his behavior—that it made her feel insecure, unloved—he blew her off by explaining his flirting meant nothing. That she was the only one he loved. Yet…it still hurt.
The beauty looked up from the computer and treated him to a broad smile. “Hello, and welcome to Caribes. May I help you?”
“I believe you can.” Vince flashed his new veneers. “Do you have a car for Vince King?”
Dana’s attention was drawn to his ring finger—now missing a wedding band. Her stomach roiled and a lump formed in her throat. Did he leave the ring at home? Or remove it on the plane when the buxom flight attendant batted her eyelashes at him? Before leaving for the airport, she’d busied herself packing and didn’t notice if he wore it or not. On the plane, Vince had the aisle seat, so his left hand was away from her.
As the clerk's fingers skittered across the keyboard, Vince leaned in closer than necessary to read her nametag. “Lena—that’s a very pretty name. It suits you.”
“Thank you, sir,” she gushed and pushed her long, dark hair behind her ears.
Dana groaned. Here we go again. Another beautiful young woman cozying up to her husband, hoping to capture his interest. To keep up with the female competition vying for his attention, Dana invested in expensive blond hair extensions, Botox, and implants. Pushing forty, no matter how hard she tried to shave away the years or how much money she invested in her appearance, she still couldn’t complete with women who were ten to fifteen years her junior. Rumors abounded—plenty of them—but none were ever substantiated. Vince blew off the tabloid innuendos, but the headlines would feed her insecurities and wouldn’t let go.
She had no reason to doubt her husband. At his insistence, she always traveled with him, making a nine-to-five job impossible. Instead, the computer was her office. She’d become a popular blogger with thousands of followers—including celebrities—who sought fashion advice and information on the latest designers and trends.
While waiting for their car, Dana glanced at the tall glass trophy case behind the counter. Each shelf was crammed with framed photos of fish of varying sizes and color. “Lena,” she said, pointing at the photos in the case. “What kind of fish are those? They’re very unusual looking.”
“Piranhas,” the young woman answered without lifting her gaze from the keyboard.
“And?”
Glancing at Dana, she shrugged one shoulder. “Just piranhas.”
Piranhas? Odd. Who would have posters of only one type of fish?
“Aren’t piranhas freshwater fish that…live in rivers…in Argentina?”
“That’s right.” Lena’s brows drew together and her flittering fingers came to a stop. “Oh, dear, there seems to be a bit of a problem, sir. Your car's been assigned to somebody else.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Dana cringed, dreading Vince’s reaction.
He whipped off his designer shades and glared. “What do you mean ‘assigned to somebody else’?”
Lena looked up from the computer screen. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed an ‘O’. “You’re Vincent King, the famous movie director!”
“He’s not—” Dana started to correct Lena—that her husband was a producer.
Vince held up his hand, signaling Dana to stop. “Yeah. Something like that.” A half smile curled Vince’s lips.
“I love your movies. My favorite is Killers on the Highway.
“Mine, too.” he said.
Glancing at the wall clock behind the counter, Dana drummed her manicured fingernails—painted red to match her sundress—on the countertop. “It's almost three o'clock. Our hotel is on the other side of the island and I have no idea how long it will take us to get there. We need a car now.”
“No need to worry. I’m sure everything will be fine. Allow me to check your reservation. What’s the name of the hotel?” Lena asked.
Dana chewed on her bottom lip. “Our travel agent reserved a suite for a week at the Seaside Hotel.”
After she finished typing, Lena looked up and met Dana’s stare. “Oh, dear. There’s no record of your reservation and there are no vacancies.”
Dana’s stomach flipped. To save money, she’d booked the hotel through a discount travel agent—without checking them out. How could she have been so gullible to believe the ad she’d spotted in one of her fashion magazines? Guess that’ll teach her to stick with a reputable agency. “Isn't there anything you can do to help us out?”
“I'm sure Lena is a very capable young lady and will find us something.” He winked at the young woman. “Won't you?”
Leave it to Vince to come to the star struck bimbo’s defense.
Standing a little straighter, Lena adjusted her low-cut, floral sundress, revealing even more of her ample cleavage.
Dana clenched her jaw and resisted the urge to tell the chick to back the hell off. Considering she needed Lena’s help to find them a car and a hotel, Dana kept her thoughts to herself.
As Lena checked her computer screen, she beamed. “You're in luck. I found you another car. An upgrade. And, for your inconvenience, there'll be no additional charge.”
While Vince and Lena discussed the rental contract—who would be driving, mileage, car insurance, fuel levels, and return fee—Dana sent texts to her sister and best friend. Then her thoughts switched to how she planned to spice things up in the bedroom. When did making movies become more important to Vince than making love?
“This vehicle even comes with the most sophisticated GPS in the world—the Smart Alec,” Lena boasted.
The Smart Alec? When had Vince and Lena switched subjects?
Dana held a microphone out in front of Vince. “To make sure it works properly, first you need to say a few words into the mic so the Smart Alec will recognize your voice.”
Vince cocked his head. “The GPS will actually know who I am?”
“That's why they call it the Smart Alec.”
He straightened, his gaze bouncing between Lena and Dana. “What should I say?”
“Well,” Lena said, “you can start by introducing yourself and letting it know exactly what you're looking for. It will choose the perfect vacation spot for you and your wife. Somehow, the Smart Alec has the uncanny ability to know what hard-working people like you need…and deserve.”
“How does it work?” Vince asked.
Dana couldn’t help but smile. Because gadgets were his thing, his face lit up like a floodlight.
“The same as a regular GPS,” Lena answered with a shrug. “So if you’re familiar with them, you should have no problems.” She stepped over to the demo on the counter and gave a brief overview of the Smart Alec.
Vince nodded. “Got it.”
“As a precaution, the lot attendant will give you a brief demonstration,” Lena added.
Dana wasn’t buying it. “Let’s discuss this, Vince. The whole concept sounds kind of cree
py, if you ask me.” Having a computer decide what they needed gave her pause. Vince might rely on them, but because of hacking, and software glitches, she didn’t trust this state of the art GPS one iota.
Vince gave her a dismissive wave and proceeded to turn the microphone, studying it. “You're sure this will work?”
“Absolutely, sir. It's very advanced. And foolproof, I might add. Once it's programmed, nothing will prevent you from reaching your destination,” Lena answered without hesitation.
“All right. Let the games begin.” He cleared his throat and brought the mic to his lips. “Hello, Smart Alec.” His lids lowered, along with his voice. “My name is Vince King, I want to go someplace secluded—away from the paparazzi. Make it memorable…exciting…where I can make wild, passionate love to my beautiful wife.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Dana and grazed his fingers along her cheek. “Romantic.”
Her thoughts, exactly. Pleased by his display of affection in front of Lena, she leaned into his touch and smiled.
“Any complaints about this Smart Alec?” Vince handed back the microphone.
“Not a one.” All business now, Lena's flirty smile disappeared. She pulled a manila folder from the drawer under the counter.
No way would Dana allow the little vixen to get off that easy. There was still the subject of a hotel that needed addressing. “Hold on a minute. How about giving us the name and number of another hotel?”
“The Smart Alec will figure it all out for you,” Lena said.
“When? Can you give us a couple choices?”
“No worries, ma'am. The Smart Alec knows what’s best for you and will choose wisely.”
Were they actually trusting this gadget to dictate the hotel they’d be staying at? What if accommodations didn’t pass the mustard? Would they be staying on the beach? What about good restaurants? Was the hotel located in a safe part of the island? She swallowed hard and gripped Vince's arm.
He jerked away from her grasp, opened his wallet, and handed over his American Express card. “I told you Lena would take care of us.” The next thing out of his wallet was his California driver's license.
