Wicked Serenade: a Lost in Oblivion Collection

by Quinn, Cari

  Simon held up a finger and moved to the couch at the front of the plane. He hit a button on a panel and the couch slid out into the aisle a foot more. It would be a little tight, but they’d slept on far smaller beds.

  He moved back to their chairs for takeoff and when the captain gave them the high sign, he unbuckled and dragged her over to the full-sized bed/couch.

  A good eight hours of sleep sounded just about perfect after the last few days she’d had. When he scrunched back against the cushions, she curled into him.

  Spooning with Simon usually led to puzzle pieces fitting together a helluva lot more fully, but he simply dropped his arm over her waist and tugged her flush against him.

  She was amazed how fast she drifted off in his arms. A few hours later, they woke looking for food and found a fruit salad and flavored water in the mini-fridge. They both dosed with the ointment from Lucy’s shop and crawled back onto the couch.

  A few episodes of Supernatural ended in a makeout session that left her fighting to keep her moans to a minimum. He was relentless and sweetly worshipful. They’d always found passion easy enough, but this slow and gentle side of him was just as maddening.

  With the backdrop of the humming engine of Donovan’s expensive plane, she got her first punch on her mile-high card. And she was entirely sure it wouldn’t be her last.

  A few hours later, they got the first warning that they were landing soon. That should have gotten her moving, but it only gave Simon incentive for another round. The second warning let them know they were a few miles away and she’d barely heard the captain’s voice. It might have been because she was near deaf in recovery.

  Simon’s mouth was lethal.

  “We have to get dressed.”

  A lazy kiss along her inner thigh was punctuated with a wicked smile in answer.

  “I should yell at you about the smug face, but I’m too wrecked to care.”

  His smile only widened as he nipped behind her knee and slid off the couch. He hiked his shorts over his hips then pushed his overlong hair out of his eyes and stretched. With his arms up, his tattoo was even more on display. It covered the side of his body in the most spectacular bloom of color. Again, the wild flutter of emotion bloomed in her chest.

  This man wasn’t just a flash of fun and sex anymore. He was her reality, even if she didn’t quite know how to work out the definition of what they were to one another.

  “Ready to see the most gorgeous beaches in our hemisphere?”

  He nodded. A light had taken over his eyes the farther they’d traveled from Los Angeles. She was incredibly afraid she was going to become addicted to that look on his face.

  “There’s no actual airport in St. John so we’ll have to take the morning ferry. Think we can sneak into a hotel?”

  He reached for the little marker board they’d propped along the back of the couch and scrawled out a messy reply: as long as a beachy sunrise is in my future.

  She smiled up at him and shrugged back into her shirt. “Now that I can do.”

  Ten

  They rushed around the cabin to find all of their clothes. Margo’s bikini top had surfaced when he hit the panel to turn their bed back into a regular couch.

  The windows opened on the approach to the airfield and they raced over to their chairs. Sunlight poured into the cabin.

  “So much for a sunrise.” She turned to him. “We forgot about the time difference.”

  He’d really wanted to see just how amazing the beach was at sunrise.

  His disappointment must have shown on his face because she laid a hand over his forearm. “Hey, we have all the sunrises we could want for the next few weeks, right?”

  He nodded and leaned forward to see the terrain. The endless stretch of ocean made him itch to get his toes into the ridiculously blue water. They didn’t have whole lot of luggage, but when the doors opened to the private airstrip, a gangly, bronzed kid was pulling two oversized bags out of the cargo hold.

  Lila.

  Had to be.

  With maybe a bit of Jazz in on the packing if he was in luck. Conservative Margo clothes would be off the list in favor of Pink Pixie tiny wear.

  The teen loaded their bags into the back of a Jeep Renegade. The heated tar of the newly sealed tarmac was like a furnace. It was mid-morning and it was already hot as hell.

  Margo chased after the kid. His eyes lit up and he went from bored worker to attentive puppy. Either the kid figured on a good tip, or just wanted a look at her amazing rack.

  Simon figured rack, but decided against going over there. Let the kid drool. He was the one who would be shacking up with her for the next few weeks. Margo kept glancing back to Simon as she talked, then typed something into her phone as she nodded.

  Simon looked around at the blacktop and flat landscape. He could smell the water, but they were just far enough away that all he could see was spotty grass and sandy soil. When he glanced over at her again, she was still typing on her phone and talking to the local. She waved and finally headed back to him.

  The sea-scented air tossed her hair around her face. “We’re in luck, there’s a ferry in about half an hour.”

  He nodded to the kid who couldn’t be more than a senior in high school. He made a driving gesture.

  “He’s just dropping the Jeep off to us.” She dangled keys.

  His eyebrows shot up.

  “Lila strikes again. She’s got us all set up. Even had that kid get us some food.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how she does it.”

  Simon thumbed on his phone and sighed. This texting thing was getting old already.

  DL knows how to do it up in style.

  “Do I want to know what DL means?”

  He grinned. They’d been calling Lila Dragon Lady for months, but it was mostly between him and Nick.

  Inside joke.

  She read the text and rolled her eyes. “The Jeep will come in handy. The beach house is sort of…” She trailed off and twisted her lips. “It’s kind of out of the way.”

  If it was anyone else, he’d wonder if it really was a shack on the beach. Not that it would matter to him, but her folks didn’t seem the type to have a hut. “Sounds good to me,” he mouthed.

  She flipped the keys on the ring and peered at him through her lashes. “It’s my favorite place, but it’s kind of unconventional.”

  His eyebrow went up in question.

  “Kind of hard to explain. You just have to see it.”

  He held his arm out and they fell into step.

  “We can walk down the beach every day, but food is another matter. We’ll need to make a few trips into town.”

  He didn’t bother to ask for the keys. She knew her way around the island from the way she was acting so he climbed into the passenger seat. Their suitcases were strapped down in the back and a white cooler sat on the backseat. Lila had struck again, he was certain.

  As soon as she started the Jeep, a local rock channel blared out of the speakers. He curled his fingers into his palm. His kneejerk reaction was to turn it off. If he had to live in silence, he didn’t want the music in his head either. He wanted to sing along, wanted to open his mouth and let sound out.

  He hated the silence.

  Music had always been in his life. Whether he was the one making it or listening to it, he couldn’t remember a time it wasn’t a part of him. But now the notes seemed to jumble in his head. Like they were stuck and couldn’t make their way out.

  Fuck.

  He slapped the knob and silence filled the space.

  He gripped his knees and shut his eyes as frustration and anger replaced the music he longed for in his head. When her hand slipped over the top of his, he turned to her. She didn’t say anything, just laced her fingers between his for a moment before slipping away to shift gears.

  It was kinda hot that she could drive a stick.

  She turned onto a coastal road and he stood up, curling his fingers around the roll bar.

 
“Simon, sit down.”

  His hair whipped around his face as he looked out on the turquoise water. Now this could be the distraction he needed.

  “Do not make me stop this car.”

  He looked down at her with a grin then tipped his head back and opened his arms.

  “We’re not in a John Hughes movie, dammit. Sit down!”

  He dropped back into his seat and leaned over to nuzzle her neck. She pushed him away, but not before her stern face melted into a smile. That was good enough for him. He put his seatbelt back on and enjoyed the ride to the pier.

  There was a line of cars waiting for the ferry when they pulled up. He frowned.

  “It’s a big ferry.”

  Relieved, he kept himself busy people watching. He pulled a ball cap out of his duffle and shoved his sunglasses on his face. Now that they were stopped, he didn’t want someone to recognize him. True to her word, the ferry was big and the line of cars and trucks were loaded on faster than their roadies could set up a drum kit.

  He climbed out of the Jeep the minute they hit open water. He muscled his way to the railing, dragging Margo behind him. He pulled her in front of him and caged her against the bow. The breeze off the water slapped at them and her dark hair floated up from the steady pace of the ship.

  The view was breathtaking. He winced a little when a few people pushed him from behind, and he was crushed into Margo’s back. His tattoo was a little tender from all their activity, but he didn’t let her go.

  This was a perfect slice of heaven and he didn’t want to miss a thing. Her honeysuckle scent mixed with brine and a hint of them still lingering on her skin. He was impatient to get to the house and explore the island.

  Margo, however, was relaxed as he’d ever seen her. Her face was serene and she leaned back against his chest without a care in the world. It was a new side of her. He honestly wouldn’t have believed she could relax if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.

  “Stop staring at me.”

  He pressed a kiss to her nape in answer.

  When the ferry docked, they were among the last to leave the ship. People seemed to be on vacation time and urgency was nonexistent.

  When they finally departed, there was another line to get on the main roads. The removed, almost serious face that Margo perpetually wore was missing. She weaved in and out of traffic fast enough that he actually grabbed the roll bar above them.

  Was that glee in her eyes?

  She turned to him for a second and he couldn’t help but grin back at her. He glanced down at the speedometer and swallowed thickly, and not due to his perpetually scratchy/swollen throat for once. There wasn’t a speed marker for miles and Margo evidently was going for mach one.

  Jesus fuck, they were going to die.

  He saw signs for Maho Bay and was slammed into the door as she fishtailed off the highway and up a path. Because it sure as shit wasn’t a road. She seemed to have used her momentum to get them moving up the steep incline. She jammed the gear shift and revved the motor.

  Evidently if they were stuck in a third world country with no roads, his girl could get them through anything. Huge green leaves the size of his head whipped against the windshield as she carved her way up a mountain.

  “Hang on,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Hang on? He threw a startled look at her and gripped the door and the roll bar. Wasn’t that what he’d been doing?

  The nose of the Jeep dipped and bottomed out as they hit a rutted rock face. Okay, so it wasn’t actually a rock face, but it sure as crap seemed like it. The huge wheels gripped every available surface and they slowly inched their way even higher.

  A crazy laugh escaped her. “It’s worth it. I swear.”

  Simon was trying to picture her stuffy parents doing this kind of trip and just couldn’t. His eyes bulged as the gears ground out their distress and she made a turn that Angelina Jolie might have made in the jungle during the Tomb Raider movies.

  The greens parted and a cove came into view. She pulled the parking break and laughed. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

  His breath stalled and he stood up, leaning his waist against the roll bar and bracing himself with both hands. There was nothing but the deep jewel colors of aqua blue and green for miles. The sand looked like baby powder under the powerful noon-time sun.

  “There’s a winding road that comes up here too, but that’s no fun. And it’s all the way on the other side of the cove. Takes forever to get up here.”

  Now that made more sense. He grinned down at her and dragged her up to meet his mouth. She stood on her seat and leaned into him, the kiss sweet and soft as the breeze coming off the water. She tucked herself against his side and looked out over the water. “I never get tired of this view.”

  He could see why. He pressed a kiss to her temple and hooked his arm around her shoulders.

  “But, now is the real test. The house.”

  He frowned. Why on earth would that be a test?

  She slid back down in her seat and patted his knee. “C’mon, we have a little farther to go.”

  He nearly swore out loud as she jerked forward and he ducked as a branch came for his head. There were only a few more feet of trees before they broke out into a clearing. Salt and pepper-colored sand hugged the rough gravel path and a pretty little tropical garden bloomed around a courtyard. A stone house—no.

  No, that wasn’t a house.

  A church came into view with stained glass spiring up each side of the massive bleached pine door. It wasn’t exactly churchy on the glass. It was more of a mix of blues and purples and greens in geometric patterns. Each of the huge rectangles were made up of a network of honeycomb-framed sections of glass.

  She slowly rolled to a stop under a small portico beside the churchish house.

  “Yeah, so church.”

  His eyebrows shot up.

  “I know. It was a church a long time ago. Sometime in the nineteen hundreds when they had tons of missionaries in the area. Over the years it kind of morphed into more of a house. We’ve had it in the family for a long time.”

  He climbed out of the Jeep and tipped his head back. The top of the building definitely held an old spire and more windows. The large circle ones on the second floor were more of the fire and brimstone look with angels trumpeting and symbols everywhere.

  “Matisse had a hand in a lot of the stained glass on the island.” She nodded to the large patterns along the front door. “Like those.”

  He was no art connoisseur, but he knew a little bit from dating a few art majors in his time. He followed her to the door and took a big step back when the door swung open. A little dark-haired woman bustled out with a white apron tied at her middle. She swiped her hands over the smudged linen.

  “You made it.”

  Margo’s face brightened and she rushed the woman. “Kim. I didn’t expect to see you.”

  “My little virtuoso comes to the island for the first time since high school and I’m not going to greet her? I think not.” The woman hugged her tight then stepped back. “Not so little anymore though. My goodness you sprouted up a few inches since the last time I saw you.”

  Margo flushed. “It’s been almost ten years.”

  The woman slid her hand around her hip and turned to him. “She was super skinny and used to play her violin in the courtyard every morning.”

  Margo looked down and brushed her hands over her hips. “Not so super skinny anymore.”

  Simon frowned and drew her into his side. He liked her curves. He swiped a hand down her hip and back to her waist, unafraid to show just how much he liked the way she was.

  “I thought you were going to be a waif like your mother. I like you much better this way. Strong and capable with such pretty color in your cheeks.” Kim looked him up and down. “And who’s your young man?”

  “Oh, sorry. Kim, this is Simon, my…”

  Simon winked at Kim. It was weird that love had been dropped like a bomb between them
and now they didn’t know what to call this thing between them. “Just hers,” he mouthed.

  Kim smiled wide. “I like him. Even if he doesn’t talk.”

  “Don’t mind Simon. He just had vocal surgery so he’s not allowed to talk for a couple of weeks.” She patted his chest, but didn’t make any move to create space between them. “We’re here for a little R&R while he heals up.”

  “Well, if the ocean doesn’t do it, then nothing will.”

  Simon nodded.

  “I just took a tray of tarts out of the oven. I made raspberry and apple ones.”

  “Oh, Kim. How am I going to wear a bikini with that?”

  “Proudly.” Kim glanced over her cover-up. “God, I wish I had your body.”

  Margo rolled her eyes and moved forward to give the woman a hug. “You always knew how to make me feel better.”

  Kim stepped back and patted her arm. “I aired out the house and put fresh sheets on the loft bed. Your mother called, but she didn’t mention you would need two beds.”

  Margo swallowed and swiped her hand down her middle. “One bed is fine.”

  Kim looked at him then Margo. “I’m sure it will be.”

  Simon pressed his lips together. There wasn’t a thing he’d say about that one, even if he could.

  Kim untied the apron and opened the door. “C’mon in. I turned on the fans to get some air moving in here. It’s been very humid the last few nights. Brian brought the catamaran out of storage. It’s docked on the beach.”

  “You are amazing. I didn’t even think about the boat. That’s exactly what we need.”

  Catamaran? That was a fancy kind of boat, wasn’t it? He pulled out his phone and did a quick search. Oh, man. Now that’s exactly what he needed. He could happily live here. He was still scrolling through pictures as Kim and Margo talked about sheets, linens, food, and people they knew.

  He wandered through the space. The place was small and huge at the same time. Vaulted ceilings made the living area look twice as large as it was. It was completely open with ocean blue chairs and a long couch that filled one area and rolled into an open kitchen with a marble slab of a table delineating the kitchen and the living room. A wide screen TV was bolted to the wall. He turned to look up and saw the loft bedroom.