Going with Gravity

by Masters, Cate

  When he came into the kitchen, he was fully dressed in slacks and a polo shirt. He poured coffee without looking at her.

  To break the silence, she said, “This rain’s incredible.”

  He nodded, sipping from his cup.

  “Do I have time for a shower?”

  “Mass starts at nine. It’s just after eight now, so, if you hurry, yes.”

  “Mass?” He went to church?

  He leaned back against the counter. “My mom’s services.”

  “I didn’t realize….” How awkward.

  He cocked his head back. “You’re welcome to come.”

  She set her cup in the sink. “I’ll hurry, then.” Back into the same clothes again, she thought as she walked down the hall to the bathroom.

  ***

  They drove to Saint Anthony’s through the downpour without speaking. Wes held his hand toward her. She grasped it and they ran to the wide wooden doors. He surprised her by genuflecting at the end of the pew, and throughout the mass, reciting the prayers, singing the hymns, taking communion.

  The organist played the final hymn.

  Tom approached as they walked to the open doors. “Hey. My flight’s in a few hours. What’s up with today?”

  The rain pelted the sidewalk harder than ever.

  Wes folded his arms across his chest. “We’ll have to postpone it until the weather clears. When will you be back?”

  Tom’s gaze drifted across Allison. “I’ll have to arrange something. I’ll give you a call.”

  Wes stretched to his full height as he stepped closer to Tom, blocking his view of Allison. “Have a safe trip.”

  Tom jogged down the steps and disappeared around the corner.

  She touched his arm. “Everything all right?”

  His nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply. “Are you hungry? Let’s go get something to eat.”

  “Sure.” It wasn’t as if she had somewhere else to be. Or wanted to be anywhere else.

  Everyone on the island apparently had the same thought. Eateries were jammed with locals and tourists. Wes pulled up near a small café on a side street, and they ran inside.

  The air conditioning chilled Allison as her wet hair clung to her head.

  They sat at the only empty table, a booth in the corner. Wes asked for two coffees and two mimosas. “Trust me, if one doesn’t warm you, the other will.”

  The mimosa tasted so good, she had another. And another.

  By the time he led her through the rain to the Land Rover, she no longer cared about getting wet.

  He drove her to the hotel, and walked her up to her room. At her door, he picked up the complimentary copy of the newspaper and folded it under his arm.

  A familiar face caught Allison’s eye. “Oh no. Let me see that.”

  Kicking off her shoes as she walked in, she read the caption: Arrested for public drunkenness, Michelle McCarter is taken to the police station. In the photo, Michelle scowled at the camera, her face distorted in an alcoholic rage.

  “Poor Michelle. She’s such a mess.” Allison walked to the bed, stubbing her toe on the frame. “Oww. That’s what I get for mean thoughts.” She sat, rubbing her toe.

  He knelt beside her. “Let me see.”

  She leaned back. Her foot felt much better in his hands.

  He rubbed her toes. “No permanent damage. Now, what mean thoughts?”

  She winced. “That she got what she deserves. No one deserves that. She used to be fun to be around. It hardly felt like work. Now I’m just so tired of the drama.”

  His smile warmed her insides.

  “Now you don’t have to put up with it.”

  “Yes. And it’s wonderful.” She giggled.

  His fingers meticulously worked her toes.

  “Why are you so nice to me?”

  He glanced up. “Why am I so nice to a beautiful, intelligent woman who has integrity and a great sense of humor?” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  She sat up. “Your mom just died, and you’re having problems with your brother – don’t deny it – and so much else going on. Yet here you are, in my hotel room, making me feel better.”

  He furrowed his brow, then looked up. “Didn’t you ask yourself how I happened to be seated next to you on the plane?”

  She gripped the edge of the bed. “No. It was crowded…”

  He nodded, and ran his hand along her calf. “Yes. Very.”

  Before she’d boarded, she’d seen him at the ticket counter. It hadn’t made sense at the time. Now it did. “You changed your seat. Why?”

  He smiled, then his lips touched her knee as he grasped her legs. “All my life, I’ve followed my instincts. I do things that are right for me, good for me. When I saw you… I felt it.” He touched his chest. “In here. Something took hold of me, connected me to you.”

  He stood, leaning over her. “I’m never wrong, Allison.”

  His face was within an inch of hers.

  She touched his cheek. “Never say never. You’ll jinx it.”

  He mouthed the word never then pressed his lips to hers as he pushed her back onto the bed.

  Her legs instinctively curled around his. The sound of fabric ripping froze her. “Oh no. This is my only nice outfit.”

  “Off with it, then.” He hoisted himself above her, unzipped her skirt and tugged it down her legs. He folded it and carefully hung it on the back of the desk chair. He held out his hand. “Shirt, please.”

  Smiling, she unbuttoned it and handed it to him. “Thank you, kind sir.”

  After arranging her blouse atop her skirt, he yanked off his polo and pants. “I, on the other hand, have many more outfits.” He leaped on the bed and sprawled across it.

  She threw herself on him, laughing. “Ah. Much better.”

  He unhooked her bra. “Even better. And…” His hands delved into her panties.

  She intercepted him. “Ah ah, no ripping. Conserve.” She slid away and pulled them off.

  He rolled to his side, his fingers trailing her waist. “I’m a conservationist.”

  “An admirable trait.” Her foot edged up his calf.

  He slid his hand down her back and nibbled her neck. “As a conservationist, I believe in economy.”

  “Oh, yes. That’s good.” The economy was the furthest thing from her mind.

  His mouth followed her collar bone. “Whenever possible, people should share resources.”

  “Yes.” She arched her back, inviting him to share hers.

  His tongue teased her nipple. “Like living spaces.”

  She clutched his head. “Mmm. Yes.” She lay back against the bed, pulling him onto her. His elbow grazed her hip.

  “I’m so glad you agree,” he murmured.

  “Oh yes.” She’d agree to anything. He was driving her wild, and she couldn’t wait any longer. She raised her hips and hooked her legs behind his.

  “Allison,” he moaned.

  The rain pelted the balcony all afternoon. She barely noticed.

  ***

  They lie sprawled on their backs, chests heaving as they stared at the ceiling.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Oh, I hope so.”

  He leaned up on an elbow. “Here’s my plan. Room service. Stay here tonight. Check out in the morning, and bring your things back to my place.”

  She rolled onto her stomach. “My flight leaves tomorrow.”

  He curled on his side. “Cancel it.”

  “But…”

  “Stay.”

  She opened her mouth, but no thought was behind the action. One word. That’s all it took to flummox her.

  “Stay,” he repeated more softly.

  With a groan, she leaned her forehead against the bed. “Never, huh?” If only she could believe it.

  She heard the smile in his voice. “Never.”

  She propped up on her elbows. “Because technically, what that means is, never before. The possibility is a
lways there.”

  “Mm mm.” His lips swept across her shoulders, his hands appreciatively following the curve of her spine to the curve of her ass. “You’re such a spin doctor.”

  She sighed, sliding her elbows down to enjoy the feel of his hands on her. “No. I’m unemployed.”

  “Between jobs,” he corrected.

  “Now who’s the spin doctor.” She turned, weaved her fingers through his. “I’ve always mapped everything out, way in advance. I always knew where I was headed.” The opposite of him.

  He tilted his head. “You could stay and be my PR person.”

  She squeezed his hand. “That’s sweet. But those situations always end badly.”

  “Then just stay. You’ll figure it out.” His voice held pragmatism, softened with tenderness.

  The past few days had been a whirlwind. “This is crazy.” She fell back on the bed, resting her forearm against her head.

  He leaned his head against his palm. “It was more than a connection I felt.”

  She looked at him, this beautiful man she’d never seen before three days ago.

  The humor had left his face. “When you looked at me, in the airport that first day, I felt grounded. Connected to you, but grounded by you.”

  “Is that a good thing?” Did he want to be grounded? Or would he eventually hate her for it?

  His eyes held the same intensity that first riveted her. “Yes. My life sometimes flies in a thousand directions at once. Without someone to ground me, I sometimes come close to having it shatter into a thousand pieces.”

  “Forgive me for saying this, but you’ve had plenty of women before.”

  “No. I mean, yes, there have been other women.” His gaze held hers. “I never felt connected to any of them.”

  She sighed. “There’s that never again.”

  He exhaled sharply and sat up. “Dammit, Allison. I’m not the only one that feels it. I know you do too.”

  His sudden intensity took her aback. She pushed herself back against the headboard. “You’re right. But it frightens me.”

  “Good.” He flipped to his stomach next to her.

  She laughed. “Good?”

  “Yes. Fear is a good thing. When I’m out on my board, and I see a huge swell coming, I know that means a huge wave. Do I go in the opposite direction? No. Because as the swell rises to a crest, and starts to curl over me, I’m riding that board like there’s no tomorrow. It’s the most amazing feeling in the world. Fear and excitement and wanting to be nowhere else on earth.” He took her hand, brought it to his lips. “That’s the feeling I get with you. That’s why I know I’m right.”

  She realized she’d been holding her breath. “How am I supposed to argue with that?”

  He smiled. “You’re not. You go with it. It’s a hell of a ride.”

  His blue, blue eyes made her feel as if she were floating. Something released within her.

  “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  He smiled. “That’s my girl.”

  Somehow, she’d known he would say that. Instead of frightening her, she felt… grounded.

  “E pili kâua,” he whispered. “Let’s be together.”

  Unable to hold back her grin, she scooted lower. “So much to learn. What’s the word for making love?”

  “Ho`onipo.”

  She sunk down further, within reach of his lips. “I’ll have to remember that. Ho`onipo.” She pressed her lips to his, so warm and open. Waiting for her.

  ***

  The waves lapped over the edges of the surfboard. Allison relaxed her body against his, trusting his movements as he paddled them out to sea. His body was so attuned to the ocean, he seemed made for it.

  She clutched his leg. “Not too far out.”

  “Trust me. The waves are slow today.”

  She tilted her head back. “Slow for you is roller-coaster fast for me.”

  He chuckled. “We’ll sit on the board, let the wave take us in. Someday,” he pointed down the shoreline, his head close to hers, “we’ll work up to that level of tandem surfing.”

  A man and woman stood on a board, their bodies moving in synch with the wave. The woman arched her back, lifted her leg, and the man curled her over his head.

  She laughed in amazement. “Whoa! I don’t think so.” Their Olympian acrobatics awed her.

  “Well, maybe not to that degree.”

  She rested her hands around his thighs, the water flowing against their legs like energy to bond them. “This level is perfectly fine. I’m not exactly a surfer girl, you know.”

  “I bet I can convert you.” He tugged her closer.

  She could believe it. Two weeks ago, she’d never have imagined this scenario, but here she was. With his palm against her rib cage, she’d never felt safer. Granted, these were not the waves Wes normally sought. In the video on his Web site, a jet ski towed him toward the largest waves, and he’d cut loose, the blue curl arching over him making him look miniscule – yet he radiated power and control.

  “A friend of mine mentioned the Honolulu Star Bulletin is looking for a reporter.”

  “Yeah? Journalism’s my first love. I’ll send them my resume.” First, she’d have to update it, of course. Michelle wouldn’t be one of her references.

  Using his legs, he twisted the board toward shore. “You have an interview tomorrow.”

  She twisted to look at him. “I do? Well, thank you.”

  Boyish innocence filled his face. “Don’t thank me. It’s up to you to get the job.”

  Beneath the board, the water swelled and carried them along, as sure as if it were on a track. She held out her arms like a bird. Almost like flying.

  “So what kind of a sea is it today?” she asked.

  “Today it’s kai malino. A calm, quiet sea.”

  “Kai malino. That’s nice.”

  “I’ve decided to give you a Hawaiian name, too. Alana.”

  She fitted her back against his chest. “Alana? What does that mean?”

  “Awakening.”

  The board sped up, following the wave. His hands held her waist, his grim firm yet gentle.

  Yes. It was definitely like flying.

  ###

  About the Author

  Cate Masters has made beautiful central Pennsylvania her home, but will always be a Jersey girl at heart. A lover of all great writing, she aspires to entertain and enthrall with her own stories. Most days, she can be found in her lair, concocting a magical brew of fantasy/paranormal, contemporary and historical stories with her cat, Chairman Maiow, and dog Lily as company. Look for her at http://catemasters.blogspot.com, Facebook, Goodreads, and in strange nooks and far-flung corners of the web.

  Cate loves to hear from readers. Email her at: cate.masters AT gmail.com.