by Donna Hill
By silent agreement they made their way up to Ian’s bedroom, and he was good at his word. They made slow, crazy love until they were too weak, too satisfied to do anything more than curl up in each other’s arms and dream of the impossible.
Chapter 12
Nina stretched catlike beneath the silky-soft cotton sheets. The morning sun was high in the sky. The air conditioner was on just right. Even though her body ached in all the right places, she felt incredible. Happy. Almost giddy. Who would have thought that a house-sitting gig could turn into every girl’s fantasy—getting busy with a man to die for.
She sat up. Where was Ian? She got out of bed and went to the door and walked out into the hallway. Downstairs was quiet. She returned to the bedroom and looked out the back window that opened onto the deck.
Ian had set up his easel and was busy painting. A warm feeling of comfort and stability filled her as if this was the way things were supposed to be.
She shook her head and stepped away from the window. Don’t go there, she warned herself. In a few weeks this fantasy would be over and reality would resume. She went downstairs and recovered her clothing that had been washed and dried after the storm, then went back upstairs, showered, and joined Ian on the deck.
“Good morning.”
“Hey.” He put down his brush and wiped his hands on his paint-splattered jeans. “You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t want to wake you.” He walked over to her, threaded his fingers through her hair in back, and pulled her into a deep, sweet kiss.
“Hmm, good morning,” she whispered against his mouth.
“I could get used to this,” he said, then turned back to his painting.
Nina blinked away her surprise. No. She would not read anything into what he just said. “What are you painting?” She walked down the last step and came up next to him. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.
It was her! And not. The image of her was there, with the body type, the wild hair, pouty lips, and wide eyes, all superimposed on bursts of colors, splashed behind the woman, through, and around her. It was as if she were stepping out of a rainbow of color.
“Ian . . .” It was all she could say. She stepped closer.
Ian gauged her reaction. It was a mixture of surprise and awe.
“It’s . . . it’s me.”
“I started it shortly after we met. I wanted to make a present of it to you.”
Her throat clenched. Her hand went to her mouth. She’d never seen anything like it. It was sexy and understated and bold and surreal all at once.
“I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“You can tell me if you like it,” he hedged, with a lift of his right brow.
She turned to him and he was stunned to see tears welling in her eyes.
“You hate it.”
“No, no,” she croaked. “It’s . . . beautiful. I . . .” She shook her head, at a total loss for words. A tear rolled down her cheek.
Ian came closer. He wiped away the tear with the pad of his thumb. “Why the tears, luv?”
Nina tried to swallow over the knot in her throat. “No one has ever done anything like this for me before . . . made me feel . . . so special.” She sniffed.
“You are special. Don’t you know that?”
She lowered her gaze.
Ian tipped up her head and held her chin in his palm. “Do you?”
She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. “You make me feel special,” she admitted on a choked whisper, against all her good sense.
“That’s what I intend to do. For every day that we have together I plan to make you feel special.”
Nina’s stomach pitched then settled. The days that they had together. There wasn’t enough time. Not enough time. She forced a smile and sniffed back her tears.
“Hungry?”
She nodded.
“Why don’t you relax and I’ll fix us something.”
“I’ll help you.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yep.” She nodded, pushing cheer into her voice and not the inevitability that she felt.
“Well, come on then. Do you know how to make crepes?”
“Um . . . no. I’m a scrambled eggs and bacon kind of girl.”
Ian tossed his head back and laughed. “It will be my pleasure to teach you and then I can see if you’re as skilled in the kitchen as you are in the bedroom.” He hooked an arm around her waist and they headed back into the house.
Just a fling, she kept telling herself. Just a fling.
“Okay.” Ian clapped his hands. “Today you learn how to make crepes. When you’re back home on the cold winter New York mornings, it is the perfect breakfast.”
He took out the flour, eggs, milk, salt, and butter and set them out on the counter. “All of this gets mixed in a big bowl.”
Nina opened the cabinet above the oven and took out a glass mixing bowl.
“The butter needs to be melted.”
Nina put the two tablespoons of butter in a small pot on a low flame.
“First, we blend the flour and the two eggs.” He took a whisk from the cutlery draw. “While I mix this, you can pour in, hmmm, a half cup of milk and half a cup of water.”
Nina measured the milk and the water and slowly poured them over the eggs and flour.
“And just a pinch of salt.”
She sprinkled a bit of salt into the mix.
Ian leaned over and lightly kissed her lips. “I knew you would be a good student.” He turned and bent down to get a frying pan out from the lower cabinet and put it on the stove, then some cooking oil, just a little of which he poured in the pan. “Now for the million-dollar question.” He ran his finger along the curved opening of her top and pulled her close, then lightly dragged his lips along the lines of her neck. He felt her tremble. “What would you like inside . . . your crepe?” he said into her ear.
Nina’s lids fluttered. Making crepes shouldn’t be a turn-on, but Ian made it an erotic affair; stroking her hip while she poured, whispering in her ear when he stirred, dropping kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her ears as he explained what he was doing.
The frying pan began to heat.
“Cherries,” she said on a breath while he suckled her neck.
He stepped back. A dark and dangerous smile moved slowly across his mouth. He opened the fridge and took out a box of bright red, plump cherries and dropped it on the counter.
Nina snatched it up, opened the clear plastic, and took them to the sink to run them under water. She lifted one, slowly opened her mouth, and took a bite, the sweet juice running over her lips. She ran her tongue across her mouth, never taking her eyes off Ian.
He came to her, reached into the sink, took one of the cherries, and bit into it. Nina drew in a sharp breath. He withdrew the seed, tossed it in the sink.
“Those have to come out,” he said, his voice reaching down to her center. “I’ll spoon the mix onto the hot oil, and you pluck the cherries.”
Nina’s body tingled. He sure knew how to turn a girl on, she thought, as she slit open the cherries and removed the seeds.
They sat on the deck eating cherry crepes, sipping mimosas, watching the waves and the early-morning swimmers.
“I have to go to the club later.”
“And I need to pick up my car.”
“I’ll drop you off on my way.”
She stretched out on the lawn chair and crossed her legs at the ankles.
“Is all your family still in Barbados?”
Ian took the last sip of his mimosa. “My mother, brother, and a sister, two nieces, and a nephew.”
“Do they ever come to the states?”
“My mother refuses to leave. I’ve been trying for years.” He gave a short laugh. “My brother came over when I first opened the club.”
“And where do you fall in the mix? Oldest? Youngest?”
“Oldest.”
“We have that in common too.”
He reach
ed across the short space that separated them and took her hand. “We have a lot in common.” He ran his finger along the inside of her palm. “Music, movies, hard work, good conversation, sandy beaches . . . each other.” He leaned over, raised her hand to his lips.
“What happens when you go back home?” She knew she shouldn’t have asked the instant the question was out of her mouth.
Ian looked at her for a moment, released her hand, and gazed off toward the water. “Let’s make the most of what we know.” He stood. “What we know is right here. Now.”
She looked up at him. “Live for the moment, is that what you’re saying?”
“It’s the way it is, Nina. What other way can it be?”
She lowered her head, released a sigh, then pushed up from the chair. She stood in front of him. “You’re right,” she said softly. “What other way could it be?” She kissed him lightly. “I’m going to run home, take care of a few things. Swing by when you’re ready.” She started to move away.
Ian held her arm. His dark eyes narrowed in concern. “What is it?”
Nina looked at him from over her shoulder and smiled. “Nothing.” She kissed him on the cheek. “See you when you’re ready.”
Chapter 13
Nina closed the door behind her and squeezed her eyes shut. How was she going to get through the next few weeks knowing that what she wanted was never going to happen? She sighed heavily and walked slowly up the stairs to the bedroom.
She plopped down on the side of the bed and stretched out, staring up at the ceiling. She threw her arm across her eyes just as her cell phone rang. She pushed up on her elbows, reached for her purse, and dug out her phone.
“Hello? Rita! How is Hawaii? It’s about time you called,” she gently admonished.
“I know. I know. But we’ve been having such a ball. Everything is fabulous. Girl, this place is truly paradise. But how are things going with you? Is everything okay? Isn’t the house great?”
“The house is absolutely wonderful. You were right.” She curled on her side.
“See, I told you. Oh, I’m so glad. Have you been out to the beach, shopping, restaurants?”
“Yes,” she said, giggling, as she was barely able to get a word in with Rita firing questions at her.
“And did you get to meet my handsome next-door neighborhood, Ian?”
“Um, yeah, I did.”
“And? Isn’t he gorgeous?”
“He’s definitely easy on the eyes.”
“You don’t sound too enthused. Did something happen?”
Nina didn’t respond.
“Nina. Did he do something?”
“It’s a long story,” she finally said.
“What does that mean?”
“Well, let’s just say . . . we’ve gotten to know each other.”
“Girl!” she screeched. “You and Ian. Stop. For real? OMG. Leave you alone for a minute and you hook Mr. Fabulous. So, come on, tell, tell. And don’t leave anything out. Don’t you just love his accent?” she asked on a wistful note. “It’s just so reserved and sexy at the same time. I’ve seen him with his shirt off. Lawd give me strength. Have you?”
Nina couldn’t help but laugh. “Do you want to hear my story or not?”
“Yes, girl. What are you waiting for?”
Nina shook her head. “Well, we met . . .”
More than a half hour later Nina had emptied her soul, only skimming over some of the really personal details, right up to just before Rita called.
“Damn,” was all Rita could say.
“Yeah. Damn.”
“Sounds like you really have a thing for him.”
“I do.”
“It wouldn’t be the first long-distance relationship,” Rita feebly offered.
“Long distance to me is a fifteen-minute car ride with traffic,” she said drolly, then sighed. “It is what it is, Rita.”
Rita paused for a moment. “Is this really about Randy?”
“What! Randy,” she sputtered. “Of course not. Why would you even think that?” she said, jumping up from the bed and pacing the room.
“Ever since . . . well, since the breakup, you’ve had a hard time trusting a man any further than you could see him.”
Nina didn’t want to accept what Rita said. But if she thought about her abbreviated relationships since Randy, she knew in her soul that what Rita said was true. Her trust factor had been shaken to the core. Even before she got to know Ian, she assumed that he probably had a woman stashed away somewhere, and then meeting Cara only fueled her fears. Both of them lived in Barbados. What was to say that they wouldn’t get back together once they were both back home?
“Want my advice?”
“Sure.”
“Make the most of it. Enjoy him. Have fun. I know you, and I know it’s hard for you to keep your emotions beneath the surface. But in another few weeks, you’ll be back home and so will he, and both of you will have wonderful memories and maybe—”
“There’s no maybe.”
They were both quiet for a moment.
“You’ll be fine. Think of this as a summer fever. You’re hot for each other and going back to your lives is like . . . aspirin. After a few doses you’ll be fine.”
“Hmmm, summer fever.” She’d wished it were that cut and dry.
In the ensuing days, Nina forced herself to put her apprehensions aside and simply try to enjoy their time together. Each morning they shared breakfast on the deck and walks on the beach. She talked with him about her students while he painted, and Ian taught her new recipes. Some evenings she went to the lounge and had dinner with Lauren and Keith, and at night, she and Ian played heads or tails on which house they would share.
Ian was attentive and loving, funny and knowledgeable about so many things. He made her feel like a queen every moment that they were together. Their lovemaking had taken on new dimensions. It was sensuous and slow, tender and passionate. It wasn’t just sex anymore. They talked and loved long into the night, often until the sun came up. It was magical. She’d never been so happy. And if she did have a summer fever like Rita said, she didn’t want a cure.
Nina had stolen a couple of hours to clean up around the house and get some laundry done while Ian went into town to do some shopping and stop by the lounge. She was putting in the last load when the house phone rang. The sound was so new to her that she initially ignored it until it kept ringing and she realized what it was. This was the first time in all the weeks she’d been there that the phone had rung.
She picked up the phone in the kitchen. “Hello?”
“Yes. Hello. You must be Nina Forbes.”
Nina frowned. “Who is this?”
“Carlos. I own the place.” He laughed lightly.
“Oh. I’m terribly sorry. Yes, this is Nina.”
“I’m calling with some bad news.”
She hugged her waist with her arm and waited.
“I’ve had a change in plans and I’ll be coming to the Hamptons at the end of the week. I know you were to stay for the entire summer . . .”
Nina shook her head in confusion. “You’re coming back? Here?”
“Yes. I know this may be an inconvenience, but it can’t be helped.”
She swallowed, tried to think. “Um. Of course. I mean, this is your house.” She forced a laugh. “What day will you be coming in?”
“Thursday afternoon.”
Thursday! That was the day after tomorrow. “No problem. I’ll start getting my things together.”
“How has your stay been?”
“Wonderful. You have a beautiful home and everything”—she swallowed—“has been more than I could ever imagine.”
“Glad to hear it. Well, again, my apologies for the short notice.”
“Safe travels.”
“Thank you and you as well.”
He disconnected the call. Nina stood there with the phone in her hand until the computerized voice of the operator telling her that the phone w
as off the hook snapped her back to her troubling reality.
Slowly she hung up the phone. The dryer buzzed. She had to leave. Two weeks early. Two weeks that she could have been with Ian. She leaned against the counter and lowered her head. The cure for her summer fever was coming much too soon.
She took the clothes out of the dryer and put them in the basket, then filled the dryer with the last batch of clothes from the washing machine.
Mindlessly she went upstairs, dumped the clothes on the bed, and started folding. She had today and tomorrow to make sure that the house was in order and the fridge and cabinets stocked the way she’d found them before heading back to Brooklyn.
Chapter 14
On the drive back from town, Ian’s thoughts revolved around Nina. In the weeks that they’d been together, he knew that the dynamics of their relationship had changed, shifted somehow. Of course he’d been physically attracted to her from the moment he saw her, but that was then. It was more than just a physical thing now. He looked forward to spending time with her, listening to her laughter and her awful singing in the shower. He relished the times they shared in the kitchen when she tried out a new recipe he’d taught her, or the walks on the beach together as the sun was coming up.
When they made love now, it wasn’t just raw, unquenchable sex; it was truly lovemaking, and that realization scared him. When he was inside of her, it was as if their souls were connected. He was transported to another place, and all he wanted was to stay there, with her. But there was no room in his life for commitment. That was the truth of it. Running his company, looking after his family, and fulfilling his goal of putting his artistic stamp on his island home was the real dream, his life. He’d tried the whole commitment thing with Cara, and that had been a disaster. Although now she claimed that she was wrong for treating their relationship the way she had and didn’t realize how much of a mistake she’d made until he was out of her life. She wanted to try again. She wanted to work things out. That’s what she’d come to his house that morning to talk to him about, and to tell him that she would be willing and waiting when he came back home to Barbados.
