Perfume Girl

by Vanessa Fewings

  I turned to thank him for his time but no words came; I was too struck by the knowing look of confidence on his face—and that dazzling grin. I thought I might drown in the alpha pheromones he was giving off.

  “I’ll personally review your application,” he said.

  Work for him? Hell, no. Never going to happen.

  I climbed into my Alpha Romeo and Astor shut my door like the gentleman he’d promised to be. He stepped away as I started the engine.

  I backed my car slowly away from the brick wall, a reminder to both of us of my dramatic arrival.

  Easing down the gravel driveway, I glanced in my rearview mirror to see him standing where I’d left him—tall and dashing and dangerously addictive.

  Something told me the intensity of Astor’s aura would stay with me long after we’d parted.

  IT HAD BEEN A WEEK since I’d seen Astor at Bridgestone, and he was still haunting my every conscious thought. It was his cologne, I reasoned. A spell like that can last for days.

  It had nothing to do with true feelings at all—it was all chemistry and pure science. Somehow I’d let myself get caught in the crosshairs of an East Coast playboy. Time…that’s what was needed here, along with a good deal of distraction.

  Moroccan rose and passion fruit bath salts would lift my spirits—and this tall glass of sparkling Perrier with a dash of lemon would help take my mind off him.

  I slipped into the warm bath water trying to clear my mind. The heat soaked into my bones and brought on a wave of relaxation. This kind of self-care had been missing from my life for quite a while, and it was such an easy gift to give myself.

  I glanced out the window and noticed the rain had ceased, which meant the sun would be out soon and brightening up the place again. I slipped farther down in the tub and welcomed a rush of luxurious contentment.

  This upper floor wasn’t strictly home. When Damien and I had parted ways we’d left our cozy home in Dunedin. He’d flown into the loving arms of Embry and I had ended up in this cold loft with no heat. Luckily, the climate was favorable most of the time and when it wasn’t I had a portable heater.

  It was a decent-sized loft that sat conveniently above my store, and though I’d never planned on living up here, it had all the amenities I needed to get by. My store was one of a row of shops that had once been terraces. This room had been scheduled to be gutted with the next wave of improvements, which never came. And though I had searched for a new place to live, I’d resigned myself to saving every last cent I could manage so this had become my temporary home.

  A far cry from Astor’s place on the waterfront. No doubt my loft would be the equivalent of a cupboard in that vast manor. I wondered who else lived there.

  I’ll probably never know.

  I needed to retrieve my perfume from The House of Beauregard as soon as possible. Then, I would return to the offices of Dazzle and Bazaar and hopefully get at least thirty thousand dollars for my creation. Not a lot, but enough to get me into a new store that was more affordable.

  I couldn’t keep myself from thinking about Bridgestone again, and the stables where Astor had pressed his body against mine.

  I wouldn’t have kissed him—at all.

  I cupped one of my breasts, letting the feeling of just how much I hated that man wash over me as my fingers languidly played with my clit. Pleasure saturated my senses and my back arched, shudders wracking my body as a delicious climax surged through me.

  My thoughts returned to Astor’s jodhpurs…

  I yanked my hand out of the water and reached for my glass of Perrier, taking a cold gulp of reality. Settling back and closing my eyes, I tried to think of something mundane and pleasant.

  He really did have a lovely horse.

  Fuck Astor Beauregard and those muscular thighs that no doubt squeezed you through an everlasting orgasm.

  This wasn’t going to work.

  Lying still just meant my thoughts could find me…Astor could find me.

  I got out of the tub and dried off, then spritzed myself with white datura flowers; a subtle scent that always soothed my nerves.

  Rummaging through my makeshift wardrobe, I grabbed my jeans and found the T-shirt given to me by my friend Hazel, who had also served as my divorce lawyer.

  “Ditch Damien and upgrade, darling,” Hazel had joked in her southern accent.

  Facing the mirror, I read the backward words on the T-shirt she’d given me on the day I had signed the divorce papers she’d prepared.

  SECOND HUSBAND VACANCY

  No FUCKWITS need apply this time

  I needed to do my laundry, but this would do for now. I wasn’t going to see anyone, so I skipped the make-up as well, grabbing my sunhat, sunglasses, and slipping on flat sandals.

  Within minutes I had packed a picnic basket with olives, cheese, biscuits, chips and salsa. I threw a bottle of mineral water in there, too.

  This was a me day.

  Sundays were traditionally dedicated to going out on the boat—for me, anyway. I’d taken Florida’s required boating safety courses and was more than capable of heading out alone.

  Leaving through the front door was becoming more difficult. I drew in a sharp breath of courage and walked ten more steps into the store.

  My beloved glass cabinet was full of designer bottles of all colors and shapes. To my right was a long shelf showcasing my personal collection alongside the other brands. I had earned the right for my scents to sit beside them. Even now the way the light refracted off the glass mesmerized me. It was very often this display that drew customers in from the street.

  Then I saw it…

  Savage King, a cologne from The House of Beauregard for the customer who liked to burn money. I reached for the box and opened it, pulling off the bottle’s cap. The aroma reminded me of dirty, forbidden sex.

  This place needed a touch of air freshener. I squirted Beauregard’s cologne around the room. Three more ten dollar squirts and I was breathing in him.

  Damn it.

  I threw the bottle back onto the shelf and it clinked against the others, sending one rolling toward the edge.

  Gawping in horror, I watched my precious Lalique bottle fall and bounce on the floor before disappearing beneath the counter. I fell to my knees, cursing, and realized I’d need help to move the hefty cabinet to get to it.

  Astor’s Savage King had played a part in this mayhem. I needed to get out of here and onto the ocean where my problems would feel more manageable.

  I rose, dusted off my knees, and grabbed my beach bag.

  Within twenty minutes I’d made it to Ybor City Harbor and was boarding My Fair Lady, our small Sundancer yacht. I applied copious amounts of sunscreen and put on my sunhat. I couldn’t wait to take the boat out as I ran through the pre-launch checklist.

  When I saw the low fuel indicator, I groaned in frustration. Damien had used the boat during the week and hadn’t refueled.

  I took in a deep breath of salty sea air and resolved to be patient. It wouldn’t take too much longer to get her ready to launch.

  Staring out at the ocean, I always felt a sense of peace. It was the way the light sparkled off the surface of the water, the endless blue bringing on feelings of tranquility as pelicans soared on the breeze and seagulls demanded attention.

  I was so ready to answer the call of freedom.

  “Hey!” That voice was familiar.

  My head snapped around toward the dock and I saw Damien holding a picnic basket. My heart wrenched.

  I shoved my sunglasses onto my forehead and squinted at him. “You had the same idea?”

  A hopeful tingle whirled in my chest at the flurry of possibilities. Maybe, just maybe, I could have him join me and bring the conversation around to Perfume Girl. I might even persuade him to hold off on forcing me to sell the store. Maybe he’d let me repay what I owed him in manageable installments.

  He grinned, holding up his picnic basket. “Perfect day for it.”

  “Come aboard
.” I waved him on.

  A part of me wanted to believe that what we’d had was too special to be thrown away so easily. Perhaps today life would turn around for me.

  And then I saw Embry hurrying down the boardwalk, her blonde locks flying. She had on a skimpy dress and high-heeled sandals, all ready to take on summer in a pair of designer sunglasses. As she caught up with Damien, she plopped a straw hat on her head and held it down as it billowed, looking windswept and happy.

  In her other hand she carried an oversized beach bag similar to mine. No doubt she’d packed her sunscreen, and perhaps even a bottle of wine.

  “Sorry, babe.” Damien turned to look at me. “We’ve been planning this all week.”

  I needed to go out on the water, needed to escape. I really needed to forget these people. “I’m about to kick off.”

  “You mean launch.”

  “Launch, then.”

  Damien glared at me. “Don’t be like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “There are two of us,” Embry piped up.

  Her logic wasn’t welcome here and neither was she because this boat had always been ours.

  My heart sank as I realized I was bound to lose this argument.

  “Whoa!” Embry’s gaze widened as she took in something behind me.

  Turning to follow her gaze, I winced into the sun and saw an enormous yacht gliding through the water toward us. Its size caused a large swell, and I had to hold on to my boat’s railing to keep my balance. Shielding my eyes from the glare reflecting off its sleek sides, I realized it was about to dock not far from me.

  When I turned to look back at them, Damien was frowning at my chest. “Is that shirt meant to be funny?”

  I gave him a sheepish smile. “A friend gave it to me.”

  A wall of white loomed high on my right and drew my attention back to the titanic vessel anchoring beside me. Written elegantly along the side was the name Riveting.

  When my gaze returned to the unfriendly couple, Embry had weaved her arm through Damien’s. It felt so wrong I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop my chin from trembling.

  The unsteadiness I felt beneath my feet was a metaphor for my life.

  An ebullient crowd disembarked from the yacht. The well-dressed men and women hurried off toward the restaurants, their laughter carrying on the breeze.

  Defeated, I scooped up my beach bag and jumped over onto the dock.

  “You forgot your picnic basket,” said Damien.

  I’d lost my appetite. “Keep it.”

  “Great minds think alike,” said Embry, raising her bag.

  I rolled my eyes and sucked in my annoyance.

  “Raquel?” A luscious deep voice drew my attention away from them.

  Astor Beauregard was standing on the dock beneath the high stern of his yacht, looking ridiculously gorgeous in his crisp white shirt and tailored pants. The designer sunglasses he was wearing hid the expression in his eyes.

  “Sorry for the squall.” He offered a wave of apology.

  “It was nice,” I blurted out. “I mean, fine.”

  “Fantastic yacht,” said Damien. “What kind?”

  “One of a kind,” replied Astor. “I had it commissioned because I couldn’t find one that suited all my needs.”

  “It’s really big.” I could feel my cheeks burning.

  Astor suppressed a smile. “I’m flattered.”

  “Is that like a garage on the side?” asked Damien, sounding impressed.

  Astor followed his gaze. “I keep my speedboat in there.”

  “Two boats for the price of one.” I cringed at my joke.

  “Hardly, babe,” said Damien.

  Astor didn’t seem to notice my embarrassment. “We forgot the champagne so we’re stopping off to nab some.”

  “What an amazing coincidence,” I muttered.

  Astor turned to look up at his yacht. “Perfect weather for an outing.”

  “Partly cloudy,” said Embry. She couldn’t help herself. “Ten percent precipitation and winds up to nine miles per hour.”

  “Humidity forty-nine percent.” Astor seemed to hold her gaze.

  Damien swapped a wary glance with me.

  Don’t look at me, buddy—I know! This is Beauregard’s thing. All he has to do is stand there and women fall at his feet.

  They could take their precipitation and shove it up their—

  “Thank you for this, Raquel,” said Damien, pointing to our boat, which looked ridiculous compared to Astor’s. “You always were reasonable,” he added.

  “Well, it’s been lovely.” I gave myself kudos for feigned politeness and raised my hand to let them know I was outta here. “Have fun.”

  “Really, you’re leaving?” gushed Embry.

  My teeth clamped down on my lip in frustration.

  “We double-booked with her,” she explained to Astor, tucking a golden lock behind her ear.

  Astor was lording over the marina with a sultry stance that reminded me of a young sea captain or a sun-kissed god. I couldn’t stop looking at him, and then I realized he was staring at my T-shirt with a puzzled frown.

  SECOND HUSBAND VACANCY

  No FUCKWITS need apply this time

  “It was a gift,” I told him.

  He grinned. It was that same cute smile that had convinced me walking into his stables alone with him was a good idea.

  “Raquel has very kindly given us the boat because it’s our day.” Embry followed that up with a grateful smile my way.

  Somewhere in the divorce papers it had been mentioned that My Fair Lady would be going to Damien. Maybe today had been my last chance to enjoy her.

  I pulled my sunglasses down over my eyes.

  “Join us,” Astor said, his tone enticing.

  “That’s very generous of you!” Embry burst out.

  “Actually, I was asking Raquel,” he said blandly.

  I stood there stunned at his invitation.

  “I was expecting your call, Raquel.” Astor threw in a smile. “We have a job vacancy for a chemist at the House of Beauregard.”

  “What job?” asked Damien.

  “The one I offered her,” replied Astor.

  “That’s great, babe.” Damien looked conflicted. “She’ll really need one after closing the—”

  “I am interested in hearing more,” I interrupted.

  Astor started to respond, but Damien cut him off.

  “I’m her ex, by the way.” Damien reached out to shake Astor’s hand.

  Astor shook it, his gaze darting back to my shirt.

  “Yeah.” Damien rolled his eyes. “You see what I had to contend with.”

  “I do,” said Astor. “I had the pleasure of meeting Raquel in South Beach. It was truly inspiring.”

  Damien looked at me. “When did you go there?”

  “A week ago,” I replied, not that it was any of his business.

  “I’m Astor Beauregard.” He reached out to shake Embry’s hand, too.

  “Mr. Beauregard, you invited me in for an interview,” I clarified. “There was no official offer.”

  “Let’s continue this on Riveting.” Astor pointed to the yacht.

  I felt tempted. It was the way he’d spoken those words, the way he’d invited me onto his “pleasure palace,” seemingly the center of his world where answers awaited and hope lived on.

  The same happy crowd who had disembarked now made their way back on the yacht. A member of the staff followed them carrying a crate of champagne.

  I recognized Penelope Beauregard, the elusive woman I’d been trying to hunt down. She was dressed in a white trouser suit and I could see a bikini top showing through her open blouse. She glanced my way and then quickly boarded following the others.

  “Raquel,” Astor said, “since you’ve lost access to your boat for the day, please take advantage of mine.”

  I had to remind myself that this man was my enemy. He swaggered around with a wealthy bad boy attitude t
hat riled me up. The way he smiled—oh, so innocently—and most of all the way he loomed over everyone with his intimidating height.

  I didn’t trust myself to be close to his sister either. Being trapped on a yacht in the middle of the ocean after confronting either of them would be a nightmare scenario.

  Maybe Astor was playing with me. Maybe he knew who I was. That strange glance back from Penelope had intrigued me. It could have been guilt, but then again my T-shirt was a close contender for her disapproval.

  How long had I waited for the chance to get close to her and ask the kind of questions that would bring about a resolution to my dilemma? Still, being spontaneous brought with it the kind of risks I didn’t take.

  “If you change your mind,” Astor said, heading toward the ramp, “we leave in ten.”

  My gaze followed him and I couldn’t look away. He strolled onto his boat with confidence, keeping his hands in his pockets as he boarded without looking back.

  “I’d jump at the chance to work for him,” admitted Embry, her tone incredulous that I’d passed on his offer. “What?” she said, responding to the disapproving look from Damien. “Look how rich he is. He’d pay well.”

  “He’d take advantage of Raquel and then toss her away when he’s done.” Damien fixed an accusatory glare on Astor’s back.

  My ex was an idiot. He and Embry deserved each other.

  Years of hard work and endless crafting of perfection in a laboratory had been lost because of that theft, and right there on that love ship were clues to help me get my perfume back and secure my future. All I had to do was follow Astor up those steps.

  All I had to do was be fearless.

  AFTER BOARDING THE RIVETING, RAQUEL stood just beyond the ramp wearing her Wayfarer sunglasses and sporting that crazy T-shirt.

  I would have drawn more amusement from the situation if I hadn’t done the unthinkable to strategize getting her on here—though I felt no guilt. I had a billion-dollar empire to protect, staff to pay, and I was willing to go to any lengths to preserve it all.

  That didn’t mean I couldn’t have a little fun with her.