Charlotte Winters looked for something else to complain about. “What is this I hear about you leaving after the wedding?”
“My office is having a retreat in Savannah. I need to be there.”
“Your sister is getting married. You need to be here.”
“I am here, Mother.”
“I mean for the entire event. Not just the nuptials. There was a lot of effort put into planning this weekend, and it seems that you’re blowing it off.”
“I’m not blowing it off. I’ll be here for the most important part—the vows,” explained Sasha.
“You’re taking this career of yours way too seriously. You’re just like your father. Never know when to quit.” Charlotte took a sip of her wine.
Sasha had taken a sip of her own wine, and she enjoyed the ambiance for a while. The last thing she wanted to do was get into it with her mother. Their views about life were as different as night and day, and she typically avoided any discussion with her mother. It was a losing battle.
She watched as Vince stood and offered a toast and well-wishes to the bride and groom. She followed suit with well-wishes of her own. After the delectable Bahamian meal was served, it was back to the condo for yet another change of clothes. Bridget’s bachelorette party soon followed.
Sasha hadn’t had a moment to herself since arriving in the Bahamas, and she needed one desperately. As soon as Dexter had everyone’s attention again, Sasha slipped out of the suite, closing the door gently behind her. She rushed down the sidewalk, making a clean escape. She thought she’d retreat to her condo for a nice long bubble bath, and then maybe a walk on the beach. The night was beautiful—the moon lit up the sky with its brightness. She’d worn skinny jeans and high heels to Bridget’s party but wished she’d opted for a bikini top, a colorful sarong and flat sandals instead. She removed the heels from her aching feet and felt the warmth of the pavement against her toes.
“I would never have guessed you to be a country girl.” The voice behind her startled her. She turned to find Vince leaning against a palm tree, the neck of a bottle of Heineken between his fingers.
“Excuse me?” she said.
“Walking barefoot is what country girls do,” he explained. “I thought you were a city girl.”
“I grew up in the city, but my parents are definitely from the country,” she said. He was not exactly the breath of fresh air she’d needed all night.
“I thought you were at your bachelorette party, getting your groove on.” He grinned that grand piano of a smile.
“I’ve had enough fun for one night. What about you? Shouldn’t you be somewhere sticking one-dollar bills into the thong of some overdeveloped Bahamian hoochie?”
Vince laughed this time. She liked his laugh—it was hearty and real. She couldn’t help noticing how handsome he looked in his designer jeans and silk shirt.
“I’ve never heard it put that way, but I’m sure the young lady that they hired is getting plenty of dollar bills without me.” He took a sip of his beer. “Where you headed?”
“To my condo for a long bath,” said Sasha.
“Ooh, sounds wonderful.” He smiled. “Any chance I could convince you to have a drink with me first?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. I’ve had enough wine and rum punch to carry me through the night.”
“One drink,” Vince pressed.
“Just one?” Sasha was close to conceding.
“Just one.”
As much as Sasha wanted to play hard to get, she couldn’t. She’d secretly hoped that she would bump into Vince. He’d cluttered her thoughts all day—the intoxicating smell of his cologne, his eyes and that smile had haunted her. She’d wondered how he was spending his day while she was being pampered with the girls. Had he driven his rented Mercedes along the streets of Nassau, sightseeing? Was he a shopper? A fisherman? Did he play golf? Perhaps that was the thing that Vince and her father had in common. She’d found herself wondering these things and couldn’t for the life of her understand why.
Vince helped Sasha climb onto a stool at the poolside bar.
He asked, “What are you having?”
“I’m a wine girl,” she said, and then turned to the bartender, “Your house Chardonnay, please.”
“A Black Russian for me, Jake,” said Vince, calling the bartender by name.
“What is a Black Russian, anyway?” Sasha asked.
“Vodka and Kahlua,” Vince explained.
“Is it good?”
“It’s an interesting drink, with many variations.” He raised his glass after Jake set the drink in front of him. “This is a Black Russian. Add cola, and it becomes a Dirty Black Russian. Add ginger ale, and you have a Brown Russian. Add a touch of Guinness beer, and you have a Smooth Black Russian.” His voice was sultry as those last three words rolled off his tongue. Smooth Black Russian.
“Okay, I get it.”
“You should try one.”
“I’m not much of a drinker.”
“You’re on vacation. Let go of your inhibitions. Live a little,” Vince suggested. “Jake, give the lady a Brown Russian.”
“How do you know I wouldn’t like a Smooth Black Russian? Or perhaps a dirty one?”
“You don’t strike me as smooth or dirty,” teased Vince.
“I beg your pardon. You don’t know me like that.” Sasha giggled and took a long sip of her wine.
“You’re right. I don’t know you as well as I’d like to,” Vince said. “How does one break through that hard exterior of yours—that shield that you put up for the world?”
“I don’t have a shield!” Sasha argued. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know that you’re a workaholic, and you’d rather be somewhere other than here right now.”
He was wrong. She was exactly where she wanted to be at the moment.
“My firm is hosting a retreat on Tybee Island this weekend, and it’s imperative that I be there. Only...my sister is getting married, and I can’t be in two places at one time.”
“And your career is hanging in the balance because you’re not there. And there’s some other hotshot attorney that’s threatening to steal your spot,” Vince stated sarcastically.
“How’d you know that?” Sasha asked as Jake placed a Brown Russian in front of her.
Completely ignoring her question, Vince asked, “Who’s your rival? Some young, blond-haired, blue-eyed little geek who graduated Yale or Harvard at the top of his class?”
“No, actually she has brown hair and brown eyes, and graduated from UCLA. And I taught her everything she knows.”
“And now she’s your rival? I’d say she’s not very appreciative,” Vince said. “She’s at that retreat right now, isn’t she?”
“Rubbing noses with clients I should be rubbing noses with,” said Sasha as she took a sip of her Brown Russian. It didn’t make her cringe as she suspected it would, and before long she’d finished almost half. “What about you, Vince? What would you be doing right now if you weren’t here?”
“Let me see...” Vince checked his watch. “You mean at this very moment?”
“Yes, at this very moment.”
“Right now I’d be sipping a cup of something hot trying to get my voice back after running up and down the sidelines of a basketball court, yelling at the top of my lungs because my kids were losing. Or because they were winning.”
“So you have children.” It was more a statement than a question. A resolution. She suddenly felt a sense of disappointment. Either he was married, divorced or had a baby’s mama, and any way that spelled trouble. That is, if she were interested in him romantically. Which she wasn’t.
“Yes, I have fifteen children.” Vince grinned as Sasha’s eyes grew bigger. “I coach a youth league coed basketball team. And they had a
game tonight.”
“Wow, a youth team. You must love children.” She sighed with relief, and then her heart warmed at the thought.
“They are the most honest people on the face of the earth. You don’t have to pretend with them. You just have to protect them. And teach them to take care of their teeth.” Vince polished off his Black Russian and raised his glass for Jake to bring him another.
“Their teeth, huh?” Sasha asked, and then she remembered her conversation with Bridget earlier. “You’re a dentist.”
“Yes.” Vince grinned. “A pediatric dentist.”
“Oh.” Sasha covered her mouth with her hand, wondering if he’d already inspected her teeth.
“Don’t worry. You have a nice set of teeth.” It was as if he’d read her mind. “I’ve already checked them out.”
“You are...something else.” Sasha smiled and shook her head. She found herself more engaged than she wanted to be.
She raised her glass to alert Jake that she needed another Brown Russian, and before long she’d polished off three. Suddenly Vince’s jokes became outrageously funny, and Sasha found herself laughing long and hard—and loudly. Vince pulled his chair around closer to Sasha, until she could feel his breath on her neck. His cologne crept its way into her nostrils.
“You smell wonderful,” she whispered.
His lips pressed themselves against hers, and his tongue teased the inside of her mouth. Whatever good sense she had was out the window as Vince took her to a new level of delight. His huge hand palmed her head and pulled her closer, and she wondered what that hand would feel like on her breast and even between her thighs. It had been a very long time since she’d even been kissed by a man. With his gentle touch, Vince had awakened every sensation in her and she got lost in the moment. She simply got lost.
* * *
As the bright sunshine beamed through her window and crept across her face, Sasha slowly and reluctantly opened her eyes. Her head was pounding—the alcohol had proved to be a more powerful force than she thought. She groaned, regretting every Brown Russian that she’d indulged in with a man whom she barely knew. It was her sister’s wedding day, and she knew she wouldn’t have the luxury of recovering from her awful hangover. She needed to meet the other girls for hair and makeup at eleven. And the nuptials were scheduled to take place at noon. As much as it pained her, she needed to know what time it was, and she slowly turned her aching head to look at the digital clock on the nightstand.
With a loud shriek, she jumped out of bed.
“What are you doing here?” she asked Vince, who was nestled beneath the crisp white sheets in her bed. She grabbed her thick bathrobe from the chair and wrapped it around her naked body. “Oh, my God! Did you...did we?”
“Did we make love?” Vince was calm and didn’t move.
“Did we have sex?”
“Having sex sounds so cheap and lustful. Making love sounds so much more passionate.” Vince smiled and sat up in bed.
“Oh, no, this is bad. This is so bad. I never sleep with guys on the first date. Was this even a date?”
“I’d say it was a date,” he mused.
“This isn’t funny, Vince. We barely even know each other.” Sasha plopped down into the chair. Her hands covered her face as she contemplated her predicament.
A loud knock on the door shook her from her thoughts.
“Sasha!” Her mother’s voice wasn’t one that she needed to hear at the moment. “Sasha, honey, open up! It’s Mom.”
“Shh,” Sasha mouthed to Vince as she pressed her index finger against her lips.
Charlotte knocked again. “Sasha, are you in there? You have hair and makeup in thirty minutes.”
Sasha’s heart pounded while her mother knocked two more times. She hoped Charlotte hadn’t talked housekeeping into giving her a spare key to the room. Vince stood and slipped his jeans on and buckled his belt. Sasha took in the curve of his bare chest and arms. She wondered if those arms had held her hips steady in the middle of the night or if they’d wrapped themselves around her naked body just hours before.
Sasha sighed with relief when her mother stopped knocking. She was gone.
“You have to go,” she told Vince. “If I know Charlotte Winters, she’ll be back. And she won’t knock next time.”
Vince buttoned his silk shirt and slipped his loafers on his feet. He walked over to Sasha, pulled her up from the chair and wrapped his strong arms around her. When he pressed his lips against hers, she didn’t pull away. Her open mouth welcomed his tongue. He stopped in midkiss, leaving her longing for more.
“See you at the altar,” he said and then exited her condo.
Chapter 4
With fingers intertwined, Sasha held on tightly to the small bouquet of mandarin-colored lilies. The small hotel conference room had been transformed into a quaint little wedding chapel. Although the couple was supposed to exchange vows on the beach, the wedding had unexpectedly been moved inside because of a few little sprinkles of rain. Her sister looked as if she’d just stepped out of the pages of Black Bride & Groom magazine, with her chic and stylish strapless Vera Wang gown and its flowing train. Bridget was a picture of beauty as their father escorted her down the aisle, delivering her to her husband-to-be. Her hair flowing against her shoulders and her makeup flawless, she looked happier than Sasha had ever seen her. Derrick looked proud as he awaited her arrival.
Sasha stole a glance at the best man, and he gave her a sly grin and a wink. The night before had been a blur, and she struggled with the thought that she’d slept with a man whom she barely knew. She wondered what it had been like. She didn’t know. All she remembered after four Brown Russians was a romantic walk along the beach before ultimately passing out. Vince must’ve carried her to her condo, because she couldn’t for the life of her remember walking there. He’d obviously undressed her and took advantage of her limp and helpless body.
She glared at him. He looked confused as to why she looked at him that way. He offered an apologetic smile. She rolled her eyes and directed her attention to the bride and groom and the gray-haired Bahamian minister who read Scriptures from a tattered Bible. She would simply ignore him for the remainder of the afternoon, and soon she’d be on a plane headed for Savannah. She would never have to see Vince again if she played her cards right. She could successfully avoid him for the rest of her life, except for those awkward moments when they both would be invited to Derrick and Bridget’s home at the same time. She’d cross that bridge when she got to it, but for now, Vince Sullivan did not exist in her world.
Avoiding him wasn’t as easy as she expected, especially when he decided to unexpectedly grab her by the waist and whisk her onto the dance floor at the reception.
“Are you avoiding me, Sasha Winters?” he asked as they slow-danced to Beyonce’s version of Etta James’s “At Last.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because you’re a predator,” she growled. “You took advantage of me while I was in a vulnerable state.”
“You were drunk, girl. Plain and simple,” he said. “And I’ll have you know, you tried to take advantage of me!”
“What? You’re insane.” Sasha lowered her voice and then looked around the room. The bride and groom danced cheek to cheek just a few feet away.
“Am I?”
“Yes!” she shouted and then looked around at the questioning eyes in the room—namely Bridget, who gave her a look that said what’s going on with you two? She lowered her voice. “Yes, you are insane if you think that I took advantage of you.”
“You’re right. It was the other way around,” he whispered in her ear, his breath warm and gentle against her earlobe. “I took you back to your room, slowly undressed you. I stood there for a moment...took in the beauty of your sexy naked body. Your b
reasts were so round and firm and plump. And your nipples...they were so hard. I placed them between my lips one at a time...”
Sasha found herself in a trance under the sound of his voice. She should’ve been mortified by the things he was saying, but she was all but.
“Then I took you. And you felt so good, baby,” he whispered. “I would love to do it again...and again...and again.”
She wanted to kiss his sexy lips, right there in the middle of that dance floor. As his huge, soft hand caressed the small of her bare back, she imagined him taking her—and wondered again what it had been like, because she certainly couldn’t remember one single detail of it.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have to go,” she said. “I have to get packed for my flight.”
“Your flight?” Vince asked.
“Yes, you know...on a jet. That huge piece of metal that’s going to take me away from here to Savannah, Georgia, in just a few hours.”
“So you think that you’re catching a flight in a few hours?”
“I know so,” Sasha said confidently.
“I think you should come with me.” Vince grabbed Sasha’s elbow and led her out of the hotel’s ballroom and to the front of the building.
Sasha peered out the window and noticed that it was pitch-black outside. It was pouring rain with an occasional roar of thunder.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered to herself, and then pulled her iPhone from her glittery silver purse. She tried calling the airline but wasn’t able to get through—the call failed. Rushing over to the hotel’s concierge, she asked, “Can I use your phone to check on my flight? I’m supposed to catch a red-eye out of here at eleven.”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but our phone lines are down right now. We’re not able to get an outside line,” said the dark gentleman in his Bahamian accent. “And you won’t be catching a flight out tonight. All flights have been canceled due to the storm.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
The concierge directed her attention to the television anchored in the corner of the wall. The newscaster’s mouth was moving but with the television on mute, and Sasha couldn’t make out what he was saying.
Tropical Fantasy Page 4
