by J. Haymore
I gaze up at him, a smile tugging at my lips. He moves a lock of hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Hi.”
He smiles back at me, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Justine
July 13, 2014
My man royally fucked things up. This situation reminds me of the old adage—never count on someone to do what you could accomplish so much better yourself. Not only did the idiot fail in his assignment, but he became dangerous to my freedom as well, and I had to take the appropriate action.
It only took a little hacking, a bit of records manipulation, and a smidgen of evidence planting to deflect the attention from me. Oh, and a bit of force. I accomplished these tasks quickly and brilliantly, with the help of a couple of thugs who’d never in a million years be able to figure out my true identity.
The best part is—I doubt even Ethan realizes I had a hand in the events that occurred during the voyage to Hawaii.
However, there is a problem, and it’s this: Ethan and Little Sister are in the midst of a full-blown affair.
Has Ethan forgotten? Does he understand how painful this is for me? Does he even realize that he has broken my heart yet again?
Sometimes I just don’t get his train of thought… We’re supposed to be married by now!
The pain is so intense, so all-consuming, it permeates every cell in my body. I can’t think, can’t move, can’t function beyond it. There’s only one way I know of to make it disappear.
Ethan and Little Sister are due to return to Los Angeles next week.
Since I now know I cannot count on others to resolve this situation for me, I will need to handle it myself.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
After dinner with Kyle, and arguing with him about who’s going to pay for his hotel room—an argument I win, fortunately—Ethan and I go back to the suite. We make love three more times, and then we sleep in until late morning.
After room service in bed, we go to the USS Arizona Memorial that afternoon, and then meet up with Kyle for dinner again.
We spend the next week and a half on a vacation that’s more like a honeymoon than anything else. I practically live with Ethan and make very little use of my own suite. We explore the island during the day, and at night, we explore each other. Ethan discovers what makes me squirm, what makes me come, what makes me lose myself in mindless pleasure. I learn what he likes too.
Best of all, I learn how to make him beg.
He continues to work several hours a day. When he does, I curl up by the window and read, or go on long walks on the beach—sometimes with Kyle. Always with a bodyguard or three following at a discreet distance.
Even though there’s no more danger, Ethan’s still obsessive about keeping me safe. That’s not going to change anytime in the near future, so I let him behave as though I require as much security as the president of some small country. We’re going to have to work on this when we get home. But, like I need time to get over all my issues, this is his issue, and he’ll need time too.
My relationship with Kyle continues to be strained. He has a real problem with me staying with Ethan, but there’s nothing I can do to make him feel better about it, save leaving Ethan’s bed. That’s not going to happen, so I pretend the strain doesn’t exist…and what ends up happening is that Kyle and I don’t seek each other out as much as we normally would. It breaks my heart, but there’s no solution on the horizon. Not one I can see, anyway. Not yet.
We meet with the FBI twice more before the case is closed, and even though Mitsumoto encourages us to put the whole thing behind us, I will never forget. Nalani is dead, and it’s ultimately because of me. If I told Ethan or Kyle this, they’d deny it. But it’s true. And guilt, sadness, and regret are hollow stones inside me.
The day before we leave Honolulu, we go to a memorial service for Nalani. Kyle, Ethan, and I take an outrigger canoe to join a convoy of flower-laden canoes. Each of us has an oar, and, following the other canoes, we paddle out to sea. Out there, scattered among the rolling swells, we all throw plumeria leis into the water in Nalani’s memory.
I gaze at the hundreds of flowers dotting the water as they’re tossed this way and that by the waves. Nalani and I were never friends. It always felt like she was judging me…and she probably was. But she was beautiful and she was smart, and she earned my respect. And I never would have wished that fate on her. Ever.
Rest in peace, Nalani. Ethan turns and presses a comforting hand to my thigh. I lay my hand over his and squeeze.
Kyle sits in front of Ethan, and he doesn’t turn. His shoulders aren’t as straight as usual, and his head is bowed. He wasn’t in love with Nalani…but he loved a lot of things about her. He definitely liked her enough to sleep in her bed for several weeks.
All this has affected him more than he’s let me know.
I’ve been a shitty friend—so wrapped up in my own dramas, I haven’t given Kyle what he needs. It doesn’t matter how he thinks he feels about me, or how I can’t deal with that part of him. He’s my best friend, and I’d be stupid to let that slip away.
We row back to the beach and spend the rest of the afternoon there. Kyle takes Ethan surfing, and I watch the two of them, sitting on the beach and digging my toes into the sand. Ethan’s a quick study, and after a couple of hours, he’s catching waves and standing on the longboard. He doesn’t hang ten like Kyle can, but he’s really not bad for a beginner.
After he catches a few, he paddles in, towels off, returns his board to the rental shack, and sits beside me, putting his arm around me. I lean against him, sighing. I’ll never get enough of being close to Ethan. He presses his lips into my hair.
And then, we both hear it: Click! Click! Ethan and I turn simultaneously. A camera aims at us, and it makes a series of additional clicks. The man standing behind the camera is a skinny guy wearing khaki pants, flip-flops, and an Aloha shirt.
Paparazzi, I think with a bone-deep shiver. It’s been over a year since I’ve had to deal with them.
“Fuck,” Ethan spits out. In a smooth motion, he’s on his feet and stalking toward the photographer.
I want to curl up into a ball. Memories flash through my mind. My mother, shielding me from cameras at the supermarket. Emily, posing, her grin wide, stealing the show as I tried to shrink away.
Ethan talks to the man for several minutes. The beach is fairly crowded, and people give them—and me—curious glances. I can’t hear them, but my limbs feel frozen in place, and anyway, there’s no reason for me to get any closer to the photographer.
Finally, Ethan nods, turns away, and strides back toward me as the man takes off in the other direction.
Ethan holds out his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
Knowing that people are still watching us, I nod and let him pull me up. We start walking toward the street. “Do you have my phone?” he asks me.
I take it from my bag and hand it to him. He calls Kimo, the driver he’s used since the first day here, and tells him where to pick us up. Kimo must have been waiting for us nearby, because he’s on the corner to pick us up in a matter of minutes.
Ethan holds the door open for me, then slips into the limo beside me. He tells Kimo to take us back to the resort, then closes the privacy screen.
In the dim light of the limo, Ethan’s eyes are a steely gray-blue. As the limo accelerates, he gazes out his window. After a moment of silence, he says, “I fucking hate photographers.”
I blink at him as he turns to face me.
“You know how much I value privacy,” he continues. “I’m not in a profession that demands the attention of the press, for the most part. But…occasionally…” He shakes his head.
“Well, we might not usually be under scrutiny, but we have a story now. Maybe they’re after that.”
“I don’t want them to have it. I want them to leave us alone.”
“Maybe they will. After all, t
here’s only been one photographer, and it’s been over two weeks since it happened—”
His fingers drum on his thigh. “It’s why there aren’t any pictures of Emily and me, you know.”
I remember what Kyle told me about not being able to find any recent pictures of Ethan online. Only that one, a long time ago, taken with that “debutante.” Ethan has never told me about her. I’m not sure if I want to know about her.
“We kept our relationship private,” Ethan continues, and at first I think he’s talking about the debutante, but then I realize he means he and Emily kept their relationship private. “A secret. I didn’t want to be in the public eye, and she respected that.”
“That must have been hard for her,” I say drily.
He shrugs. “She agreed to it.”
“For you,” I say.
“Yes. For me. It’s important to me, and she understood.”
“You don’t need to worry, then, once the story about what happened on the Temptation blows over. I’m not Emily. I won’t draw attention like she did.” Again I’m discussing Emily without feeling crushing grief or a deep sense of Ethan’s betrayal. I just feel…sad. Maybe it’s a sign of healing. I’m not sure. “But how did you avoid getting photographed with her?” I ask quietly. “The press always followed Emily around.”
The paparazzi loved Emily. She loved them back, always posing and smiling for the cameras.
“One did catch us together. I paid him off.” Ethan sighs. “You and I are going to have to be careful. As you said, we have a story now. And we both have had some past attention from the press.”
I nod. After my parents’ death, paparazzi used to camp out behind the gates of my elementary school. It was one of the reasons I wouldn’t leave the house after Emily died. I was terrified of that happening again.
He takes my hand and entwines my fingers with his. “I don’t want them to know about us. I don’t want to be exploited like that.”
I frown. “Well…isn’t it too late? That photographer took pictures of the two of us—”
“I paid him fifty thousand dollars not to publish those photos or reveal anything he saw happen between us on the beach.”
I gape at him for a moment before I find my wits. “Why?”
I dislike photographers and reporters, and having my picture taken makes me cringe. But…fifty thousand dollars?
Ethan’s free hand curls into a fist, then his fingers open, but the movement is forced.
He felt the same way on the Temptation, but that was just a few people in close quarters. I don’t know how we’re going to keep a relationship private in the real world. No dinners out together, I guess. No public displays of affection when we get back to LA.
It’s fine. As much as I’d theoretically like to parade Ethan around, I’m not a parading-around kind of girl.
“Okay,” I say quietly. Add this to my list of Ethan’s odd quirks. First a compulsive need to keep me safe. Now this extreme need to maintain his privacy.
“I was growing lax. I had this false sense of security.” He rubs his forehead. “Maybe a part of me thought that since Mick was no longer a threat, there wasn’t any threat at all. Shit, I’ve been stupid. I guess it’s good that guy found us. Knocked some sense back into me.” He sees me watching him with furrowed brows and shrugs, but his smile is tight and doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s just a thing for me, Tara.”
I am silent for a long moment. Then I slide both my hands around him, pressing a kiss to the front of his shoulder.
“Remember how we didn’t want anyone to know about us at first on the Temptation?” I ask. “This is the same, but on a larger scale. I get it.”
He brings our entwined fingers to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of my hand. “Thank you.”
I sigh and lean my cheek against him. “All I care about is that we’re together.”
“Oh, we’re together, baby. No doubt about that.”
I smile against his skin. “Then nothing else matters.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Of course you do.” I raise my head and smile at him.
His hand wraps around my neck, and he draws me into a kiss that makes me forget the paparazzi ever existed.
* * * * *
The next morning, Kyle, Ethan, and I board the private jet that Ethan has chartered to take us home to Los Angeles. When we first arrive at the airport and see the jet sitting out on the tarmac, I can’t help but shake my head in wonder. Lately, Ethan has this way of making me think he’s simply my sexy, amazing boyfriend…but then I see things like this and realize he’s the owner of a business that passes millions of dollars around like a mom might hand her child a couple of bucks for lunch money.
We board the plane and meet the pilot and copilot, then the two flight attendants. We sit in wide leather chairs, and soon we’re in the air, being served wine, cheese, and caviar.
Kyle is quiet and reflective, and after a while, he lowers his seat, turns over, and accepts the blanket offered by one of the flight attendants. Within a few minutes, I can see his chest rising and falling with the deep breaths of sleep.
Ethan and I finish up the caviar, him feeding me little bites, and we talk about what we’re going to do when we get home.
“I’m going to Tito’s Tacos first thing tomorrow,” I tell him.
“What? Why?” He looks down at the caviar and crackers, then back up to me, aghast.
I snort softly. “You don’t think it’s okay for the caviar to hear where I’m going to have lunch tomorrow?”
“It shouldn’t be legal to discuss Tito’s Tacos in the presence of fine hors d’oeuvres like these,” he says firmly. “And, anyway, why would you want to go there when there are so many better options?”
I roll my eyes at his snobbery. “I haven’t stopped thinking about Tito’s Tacos since we talked about it on the Temptation.”
He sighs heavily. “I’ll drive you. I’ll be in the office tomorrow, but I think I can take an hour or so for lunch.”
My grin is huge. “It’s a date, then.”
He makes the cutest grumbling noise, and I tilt my head up to kiss his cheek, but just as I do, he turns his head and catches my lips with his.
Nothing has changed in the days since we had sex for the first time. Or maybe it’s gotten even more intense. Because whenever his lips touch mine, I can feel my body grow warm, my skin tighten, and my sex grow damp with anticipation.
With a little sigh, I kiss him back, licking his upper lip. I cup his face in my hands, feeling the roughness of his constant five o’clock shadow in my palms. I love the feel of his stubble against my skin…my inner thighs have the pink marks to prove it.
He kisses his way to my ear and whispers, “I want you so much right now, baby. But they’re watching.”
I pull back and look in the direction of the crew area…and I see the two flight attendants pretending to be really busy with…something inside a drawer.
I curve my lips into a wicked grin. “Want to give them a show?”
His brows rise. “Hmm…do you?”
“Kind of,” I admit.
He laughs at that, then moves back to my mouth and presses his lips to mine. “Stay with me at the condo tonight?”
“I wish I could,” I say regretfully. “But Aunt Jo is going to be at the airport, and—”
He sighs. “I know. Tomorrow, then?”
“Yes. Absolutely. Tomorrow.”
His blue eyes twinkle at me. “I get to see you twice tomorrow. I am a lucky man.”
I smile at him, thinking I’m the lucky one.
I remember Emily talking to me about him. “He’s so fantastically wonderful,” she’d gushed to me, and I’d teased her about all her boyfriends and how she always thought they were all fantastically wonderful at first.
“No, Tara,” she insisted. “This one is special. Wait till you meet him…just wait.”
There was something in her attitude beyond the excitement of
a new relationship. It was hope.
I understand that, because I’m feeling hope now. The last few weeks have been full of craziness…but Ethan has stood beside me, a calming source of strength. He’s saved my life multiple times. He’s loved me thoroughly. He’s shown me what a life with him could be like. And I want it. I want it so bad, with such yearning, I can hardly contain it.
I’m not crazy. I’m not a hundred percent sure he’s completely trustworthy. I don’t know much about his past, what motivates him to be so obsessive about security, or why he hates the press so much. We need to take this relationship slow. I’ve just lived through one of the most physically and emotionally stressful months of my life, and I’m still reeling from all that happened when the Temptation sank.
I just want to settle down and date Ethan. I want to go to dinner and parties and the movies. I want to cook for him in my kitchen, acquaint him with my bed, share breakfast in the morning. I want to wear my favorite pajamas and my fuzzy slippers and wrap my Snuggie around us as we flop on the sofa and watch TV.
I want all the normal, usual things two people dating should experience.
But as we sit there on that airplane, all wrapped around each other, laughing, talking, being together, I know it. It’s an incontrovertible fact: I am in love with Ethan Williams. Unquestionably, undeniably in love.
It’s too early to tell him how I feel. I can’t do it, not on an airplane halfway over the Pacific Ocean with Kyle a few feet away and the flight attendants pretending not to watch.
I don’t know if he’s in love with me like I am with him, but from all the signs, he’s falling too. The way he looks at me, the way he protects me, the way he simply lets me be me… This isn’t just a vacation fling for him. He cares about me.
I resolve to tell him how I feel soon. Maybe tomorrow night at his condo. The thought makes me feel shaky and excited, like I’m at the top of a roller coaster in the seconds before it plummets back down to earth. This is big—huge. I’ve never told a man I loved him before. He’s the first…and I want like crazy for him to be the last.
