I was already starting to feel woozy. I wasn’t drunk, but I definitely had alcohol in my system. Taking even one sleeping pill was indeed not a great idea, but it was better than lying there and listening to the only man on Earth that I was attracted to screwing another woman.
I heard a gentle knock on the door to my villa. I got up slowly, steadying myself. I opened the door and looked around, but no one was there. I looked down and saw, at my feet, two jars of marmalade, on top of a folded up piece of paper. I looked around again, but couldn’t see anyone. I just heard Stephanie moaning and groaning and the sound of a man grunting. I picked up the jars and the note and went back inside, closing the door.
Here’s what the note said: In case you’re in need of a midnight snack… ~ Sailor
Here’s what my brain said: “He left the jars of marmalade at your door before going to Stephanie’s room to bonk her. It’s his way of saying he’s sorry.”
My phone vibrated. Here’s what the text said: Sailor Mason: Nice quiet night, eh?
Here’s what my brain said: “He’s texting me while he’s bonking her?! Who is this guy?!”
Here’s what my heart said: “He’s letting you know that he’s not the one bonking her, you idiot. Text him back and go to sleep so you’ll be less of an idiot in the morning.”
Here’s what I wrote back: Now I can hold these jars to my ears to block out the noise. Thank you. You’re so sweet. Good night.
And then I fell asleep, with a smile on my face, clutching a jar of marmalade in each hand, close to my heart, and thinking: Tomorrow. You will say everything that you need to say to him tomorrow.
Chapter 9
Luke
It was around three in the morning, but I couldn’t sleep. After dropping off the jars of marmalade at Avery’s door and receiving her single text, I’d waited up in case she’d taken the hint and decided to ask me to join her for a midnight snack, but she did not. When I’d gone outside for a bit of fresh air and a stretch (and to check and see if Avery had accidentally fallen on her way to may villa) I’d caught sight of a very happy-looking Samson sneaking out of Stephanie Sloan’s room. Well done, you.
I was so tired I could hardly see straight. I’d nodded off earlier, dreamed of Avery bending over me and propositioning me the way that Stephanie had, and woke up feeling…restless. I opened up my laptop and re-read a distressing email from my assistant—the one where he informed me that he’d rescheduled all of my conference calls for later today, so that I could take the time to get used to the time change and “focus on Buck Reynolds and the fact that you’re in the Bahamas.” It was very depressing to know that these scheduled calls were so easily rescheduled, as if it were not nearly as important for these people to talk to me as I had led myself to believe. I was being ridiculous, of course. The only person I knew who would understand how I felt was Avery, and I couldn’t talk to her.
I was in bed, drafting an email to a client when I heard a quiet knocking at the door. The knocking was so quiet and hesitant, I wasn’t certain that it wasn’t just the wind causing the door to rattle, so I didn’t bother to cover up my bare chest when I went to check. I opened the door and saw no one there, but as I started to close it again, a lovely hand suddenly prevented me from doing so. The hand was attached to Avery, who slowly revealed herself and slunk into the room, leaning against the door once she’d shut it. She was wearing pretty peach-colored silk pajamas, and her eyelids were heavy. Bedroom eyes, if I’d ever seen them.
She looked lost and confused for a moment, then looked up at me and smiled shyly. “Hello, sailor,” she whispered.
My heart pounded in my chest, then promptly melted. I had to clear my throat to find my voice. “Hello, darling.”
Her sleepy eyes traveled down from my face, over my exposed torso, to my pajama bottoms, and back up to my chest again. I didn’t move or say anything, unsure of what was happening.
She reached out and placed her hands on my chest. She traced around my pecs with her fingertip. I resisted the urge to do the same to her, but it was hard. It was difficult, I mean.
Then she put her arms around me, drawing me in for what felt like a very innocent hug. I hesitantly placed my arms around her upper back and breathed in her vanilla and coconut-scented hair as she rested her forehead against my shoulder. I could feel her warm breath on my skin. It took all of my strength and will-power to keep from picking her up and taking her to bed right then and there, but to my surprise, she took my hand and led me towards it.
She slipped under the sheets and curled up, reaching her arm out towards me. “Let’s spoon,” she suggested casually, as if we’d been bedmates for years. “It’s okay,” she said, though she wasn’t responding to my obvious doubt as to whether I should join her, she seemed rather to be having a conversation with herself. “It’s just two work friends spooning on a business trip.” She nodded, decisively, confident in this statement. Her jaw tightened and she was grinding her teeth, and I realized she may have been under the influence of something. It probably wasn’t Ecstasy, so I deduced she might have taken a sleeping pill and been sleepwalking as a side-effect. My youngest sister had gone through a stress-induced sleepwalking phase not long before I’d left home for university.
They say one should never wake a sleepwalker, so if that was what was happening,—what else could I do except get into bed and spoon with her for a while? But first, I put on a T-shirt. I saved my email draft, closed the laptop, and climbed into the other side of the Queen-size bed, careful not to wake her. She backed her body up into mine and pulled my arm around her slender waist. She made a cooing sound and settled into this position.
It had been years since I’d spooned like this with a woman. Certainly, I’d been maneuvered into a general sort of spooning arrangement by the women I’d spent the night with, but it hadn’t been comfortable for me in the least. Despite my misgivings about spooning with a business associate who had a boyfriend, I allowed myself to feel at ease with Avery. I told myself I’d lie like that for five minutes, until her eyes were closed and she was in some other level of sleep than she was in now, and then I’d get up and sleep on the sofa like a true English gentleman. But for four more glorious minutes, I would relax into this. My lips would gently rest on the crown of her head and I wouldn’t think about whether or not this was wrong, I would simply memorize the way the soft curves of her body felt as it was pressed up against mine, as her breathing rate continued to get slower, and my own foolish heart raced.
Avery
I woke up happy and smiling and feeling fuzzy in my head and dry in the mouth. The luxury sheets must have been a ten billion-thread count sateen-Egyptian cotton blend, custom sewn by angels and hung to dry in the fresh jasmine-scented Caribbean breeze. I stretched out, yawning like a cat, and sinking deeper into the cloud-like mattress-top and down-filled pillows. This sure beat waking up at my desk. Soft light poured in from the half-shuttered windows, and the gorgeous view outside was different from the one I remembered when I’d selected the room the day before.
“Good morning, darling.”
It took me a moment to realize that Luke’s delicious voice was coming from outside of my cotton candy-stuffed head. I bolted upright, as if someone had lit my back on fire. He was on the sofa across from the bed, head propped up on two pillows, his long legs dangling casually over the side of it. I’d never seen him so relaxed. He was grinning at me, a twinkle in his eye. His hair was all mussed up—again, something I had never thought I’d see. His perfectly fitted ice blue T-shirt set off his tired blue eyes, and it almost distracted me from the overwhelming sense of panic. I look like John Goodman first thing in the morning—I can’t let him see me like this!
“Um. Hi?!” I looked around as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and fluffed up my hair. This was not my villa. I looked down at myself, under the sheets. I was still wearing the pajamas I went to bed in the night before.
Luke’s laugh was gentle. “Calm down, nothing untoward happe
ned, I promise. I have proof, look.”
He pulled his personal cell phone from the side table. He started up a video and handed the phone over to me. Oh shit. If he’s showing me a sex video then I better look good in it. The lighting was dim, his face filled the screen and he looked into the camera, whispering. “Good morning, Avery. It’s not long after three in the morning here in the Bahamas, and approximately ten minutes ago, you knocked on my door and requested that I spoon with you. I believe you were sleepwalking. You’re fast asleep now, see.” He turned the camera to show me, fast asleep in bed. “I just want to go on record as saying that I did as you requested, for five minutes, and now I am taking two pillows and going over to this sofa, where I shall sleep. Do not panic. Nothing inappropriate happened here.” And then he was startled when he heard me suddenly snore like a barnyard animal, off-screen. He laughed quietly, and then looked back into the camera again. “That was alarming. I realize this may not be the most definitive form of proof, and may in fact be somewhat creepy, but it’s the only thing I could think to do just now. Good night, or good morning.”
The video ended, and I was not sure if I felt better or worse than I had before he played it for me. I certainly believed that he did not attempt to take advantage of me last night, but I needed to hide the fact that I didn’t feel great about it.
He ran his hands through his hair and covered his mouth as he yawned. “You don’t have to get up yet if you’re still tired. I think I might go for a quick swim and a run before breakfast, to wake myself up.” He smiled, politely, but his eyes betrayed him. There was something he was not telling me.
“Um. I can explain.”
“No need.”
“I took a sleeping pill last night, and sometimes—when I’m especially stressed out—I have this tendency to sleepwalk. I don’t remember any of that, I’m so sorry.”
“There’s certainly no need to apologize.” His voice was smooth and calm, but he was fidgeting with the hem of his T-shirt.
I stared at his mouth, raised my fingers to touch my own lips, as if they were remembering something that my brain could not.
He abruptly turned away, went back over to the sofa to fluff up the pillows, and cleared his throat.
Luke
What I did not record on my phone, and what I would never tell Avery or anyone else, is this: After I’d made the recording and fallen asleep, alone on the sofa, I woke up to find her languidly climbing on top of me, so feline, practically purring. She’d lowered herself down, her body pressed flat against mine, took my face into her hands and kissed me. She kissed me on one cheek, slowly, gently, then the other. She kissed me on the forehead, as if taking my temperature with her lips. I lay still, knowing that awakening her would be detrimental for both of us in many ways, but also hoping that perhaps she wasn’t sleepwalking at all, that this was something she’d wanted, consciously, as I did. I braced myself for the moment that I knew was coming next. She lowered her head down a bit more and placed her lips on mine, a slow, hesitant kiss at first. I suddenly became aware of my comically British rigidity, and as she parted her lips and I felt her warm tongue touch mine—fuck it, you only live once and her boyfriend sounds like a real git—I put my hands on her hips and kissed her back, long and deep and so full of intimacy, it startled me.
She was almost humming as we kissed. It was so sweet and sexy. The fabric of her pajamas was so thin, I could feel the heat of her skin through it. She was soft and taut in all the right places. My hands couldn’t help but travel down to her thighs and up to her ass. We were tired and hungry in the best possible way, and I let myself enjoy it, sensing that she was enjoying it too. She rocked gently back and forth on me, and I wanted so badly to be inside of her that it hurt on many levels. I would let her take the lead and see what happened. She kissed me harder, sucking on my tongue, lightly nibbling on my lower lip. Her hands explored my chest, and then found the bottom of my t-shirt and before I knew it she had pulled it over my head. She lowered her head down and licked one of my nipples, her tongue swirling around it. I groaned. She put her hand on my bulging pajama bottoms, looked up at me, licked her lips. She rubbed my hard cock gently, then squeezed. She sat back on top of me and kissed me like crazy, her thighs tightening around me, I tried desperately to control my breathing and keep my hands from touching every centimeter of her, and then she started to unbutton her pajama top.
Still, my brain would not shut up. You’ve crossed more than one line now, Luke Mason, how are you going to get yourself out of this particular mess?
Fortunately, Avery got us both out of it by suddenly collapsing like a ragdoll, her face sliding down and resting, not at all gracefully, in my armpit.
I held my breath for a few seconds, to see if she’d wake up. When she did not, I whispered her name. Still no movement. I carefully maneuvered myself out from under her, picked her up and lay her down on the bed. Then took a long cold shower and banged my head against the wall several times before returning to the sofa and finally sleeping.
I didn’t know how I’d be able to pretend I didn’t know now what it was like to feel her lips on mine, her hands all over me, and that I had seen a side of her that I wanted to see more of and wanted to do more and more and everything with her—but I figured avoiding her would be the first and most important step. I didn’t know if not telling her was the honorable thing or the cowardly thing, but it seemed like the appropriate thing, and in our current situation, that would have to do.
Avery
I got out of bed, of course, and left him to get ready for his dip in the pool. I would have liked nothing more than to go for a swim myself, but the last thing I needed was to take off my clothes and do the breaststroke around this man.
“I’m pretty hungry,” I said. “I’ll go grab breakfast now, if you don’t mind me not waiting.”
“Not at all, as you wish.” He nodded and smiled, his kind eyes crinkling. “Catch you later,” he said, affecting a ridiculous American accent.
I couldn’t help but giggle, and then immediately straightened my face as I reached for the door handle. I paused for a moment, wondering if I should tell him about Mr. Potter before I chickened out again, but then I realized I’d just made a fool of myself by sleepwalking and demanding that he spoon with me—best to space out my weirdo behaviors and revelations so as not to overwhelm him.
I looked around before walking out his door—no need for my client to see me emerging from my business associate’s room while we were there to discuss work, on his dime. Then I remembered that one of Bucket’s lawyers had kept us all awake last night with her sexual Olympics, reminded myself that nothing untoward had happened, and ran to my room so I could text Jackie that I’d sleepwalked to Luke’s bedroom and made him spoon with me. She deserved a good laugh.
Chapter 10
Avery
After showering, once I’d dried my hair and put on a pair of jeans and a hundred dollar V-neck T-shirt, I opened the shutters to let in the ocean breeze, and got an eyeful of Luke Mason running shirtless on the beach. He was wearing ear buds and concentrating and he looked like a Greek God and now that I had seen him shirtless, I could no longer convince myself that his biceps were grotesquely huge or his pecs too bodybuilder-ish. He just looked damned fine, dammit. I leaned forward to watch him run further down the beach, and hit my nose against the window. I looked around to see if anyone had seen me.
My phone vibrated. Bucket: At the risk of sounding totally inappropriate—let’s just say it would be inappropriate if you did not wear a bathing suit under your work attire today. Ingrid has left you something outside your door. This is a workation, Avery Davis. You will enjoy yourself and that’s an order.
Bucket: P.S. I totally saw you gawking at Prince Fancy Pecs just now FYI
Bucket: P.P.S. How about that show that Stephanie and Samson put on last night, huh? Somebody knows how to take a workation.
Everything about each of those texts made my mind spin. I was about to call N
atalie to tell her to fake a work emergency that would bring me back to New York when I received a text from her. Natalie: Hey boss lady! All is well here. No need to check in—got everything under control. Pretty slow morning so far. HAVE FUN! Xx
Damn her.
I opened my door and found a woven hand basket with a yellow bikini and some gauzy piece of material that was probably supposed to be a swimsuit cover-up, but covered up nothing. I sighed and brought it inside. There was no way Ingrid and I were the same size, she was tiny and model-thin. But I couldn’t not wear it. That would be rude, right?
I undressed myself and replaced my good bra and panties with the bikini, keeping my eyes squeezed shut the whole time and holding my breath. To my amazement, it did fit me—nothing spilled out or felt squeezed-in. I quickly opened my eyes in front of the full-length mirror and I swear I saw a raw whole chicken in a bikini staring back at me. I threw my clothes back on and got myself outside as quickly as possible because all I wanted to do was lock myself in my pavilion for the rest of the day.
The warm air and exotic luxury surroundings managed to calm my nerves almost immediately. I guess this was why people take vacations. I found Bucket sitting at a table on the patio, finishing off a fruit salad, and grinning at me.
“Morning, chief. Have some fruit salad. The chef can whip up pretty much whatever you want, so let him know.”
“Fruit salad is perfect, thanks.”
“Sleep well?”
Why was he looking at me like that? Did he see me leave Luke’s room? Did he see me entering it? “I feel surprisingly well-rested. And you?”
The Flirtation Page 8
