Release: Symbols of Love, page 5
The cloud obscuring my heat source is not a light, fluffy thing that’ll be moved along by the next strong wind. Instead, it's six feet, three inches of beautiful, terrifyingly persistent man. It’s like I conjured him.
I want to scream "why?” but instead I hit pause on my phone, pull my earphones down and glare up at him. His eyes are shielded by dark aviator sunglasses, but from their upward tilt to the smirk on his lips, I know he’s amused.
"I thought we weren't meeting until dinner?" I can hear the petulance in my voice, but I can’t help it. He’s completely unaffected by it and gives me an amused smile.
"I finished early. Why in the world are you wearing those huge headphones? Your ears must be sweating," he says as he flops down on the chaise next to me. He lays on his side, props his head up on his hand and eyes me like I’m wearing a tin foil hat on my head.
I return his perusal, taking in his long, oh so perfectly muscled legs that are displayed to perfection in his board shorts. Even his feet are nice, damn him. He's wearing a plain white T-shirt that's seen many wash cycles; it’s practically threadbare, and I can see hints of his skin through it. I look away and pretend to look around.
"There are about a hundred other chairs around this pool. Why did you choose this one?" I demand.
"The shade’s stronger here.” He says breezily.
"Actually, it's not. You'd do better over there." I point at nothing in particular. "Go away." I sniff and stare straight ahead.
He laughs out loud and settles back into his chair. "I don't think I will.”
I turn my head to look at him and find him watching me with a satisfied grin.
“I like you. And I think you like me, too."
I flush and say, “I do not.” And then, pull my earphones back on and press play.
He pulls one of the ear phones away from my head. And I jerk out of his grasp and demand “What are you doing?”
He shrugs, looking at my headphones in confusion. “Don't you have ear buds?"
“Why do you care how I listen to my music?” Self- conscious now, I pull my headphones off and drop them in my lap. As soon as I do, he grabs them and swipes a finger across the leather-bound cushioning that had been pressed to my ears.
"I knew it," he declares triumphantly. "They're wet."
“So, what?” I put my hand out for them. He hands them over, but peers at me curiously.
"Your head is sweating, your hair is stuck to the side of your face. Though that might be due to the fact that you're dressed for autumn instead of the heat. You know, they invented these things called swimsuits. If you look around, you'll see it's what most people wear to sunbathe.”
I shove my headphones into my beach bag and grab my phone. I swing my legs over the side of the chaise and slip my feet into my sandals.
"Where’s Bambi?" he asks, sounding more amused than anything, but he sits up, too.
I almost respond with "who?" before I remember our stupid name game. Porsha would murder me if she came back and found me gone.
Even though it’s hotter on the beach than the pool, I decide I’ll go join her there after all. I’d rather risk a sun burn than try to contend with him and his looks, innuendos and infuriating smiles.
"She's on the beach, getting a massage. I’m actually supposed to go join her," I say, annoyed that I’m letting him drive me away.
He puts a hand on my arm, and I freeze.
Oh God.
His touch is so gentle.
But, I don't let men touch me. Unless we’re fucking. And even then, I'm firmly in control. Always on top. Always.
I stare at his hand, and his thumb brushes short, slow strokes on my forearm. Each gentle swipe creates small ripples of heat that I feel straight to the tips of my toes.
So, this is instant, animal attraction. Unbidden and unruly — a law unto itself. I've read about it, dismissed it as a flight of fancy, but now I'm feeling it.
I don’t want him to stop.
I look up at him then, and he's taken off his sunglasses. As soon as our eyes lock, I fall into the chocolate depths of his. His thumb comes to rest on the pulse point on my wrist and his eyes widen as if he can feel the increase in its pace.
His eyes soften and roam my face briefly before he makes eye contact again.
"Listen, I didn’t mean to run you off. I’m sorry I poked fun at your headphones. And I'm sorry about last night. It was an accident, but my apology was lacking.” His voice is gentle but gruff and I can see that even though he’s been teasing me since he sat down, he’s sincerely trying to make amends.
Oh, no.
I don’t want him to make amends. It’s bad enough that he’s handsome, and determined, but now, he’s being nice too? I need to leave.
I clear my throat and pull my hand away. "Fine. Thank you." I snatch my arm away and stand up, almost knocking the chaise over in my haste.
"No, I'm just going to find P--Bambi. She's been gone a while."
He swings his legs around to stand up, too.
“Where are you going?” I ask. Alarm widens my eyes and makes my question come out like a squeak.
“Calm down, I’m not following you,” he says with a dry smile and stands all the way up.
"I only came out here because I saw you. I’m pretty tired. I didn’t sleep well last night. So, I'm going to my room for a bit before dinner."
“Why don’t you just sleep for as long as you need? We can do dinner another time,” I say hopefully.
“Oh, no. Kojo’s excited to meet Bambi. And I’m excited too,” he says slowly, his smile positively sinful.
That stops me in my tracks. I forget my desire to flee, and with my hands on my hips, I scowl up at him. “Why? I don’t understand it. We’ve done nothing but argue since we met,” I say, feeling exasperated but also truly curious.
He tilts his head to the side and studies my face with interest, and then he smiles. He takes a step toward me. I don’t move. His eyes are hooded and focused on my mouth.
“You know what? I don’t understand it myself.” He smiles gently and shrugs his shoulders.
He tips his head to the side and reaches out and strokes the tip of my nose before tracing the line of my top lip.
My pulse gives a little leap at the warm, intimate caress.
I shouldn’t allow it.
I can’t bring myself to step away from it.
“So, I’ll see you later,” he says casually and drops his hand. There’s an undercurrent of anticipation in his voice that both scares and excites me. Without saying bye, I turn around and rush toward the beach and safety.
5
Harry
This trip was a huge gamble. My father thought traveling to West Africa to source new plants for our farm’s greenhouse was crazy. It had taken months of running numbers, research and data to persuade him to let me make this investment.
I have big goals for the estate, and meeting them will require thinking outside of the box. My father’s been ill this year, and it’s reminded me that one day I’ll be in charge of running the business, and I want to make sure that when that day comes, I’m ready.
I want the people who depend on it to provide for their families to know it’s in good hands. And I want to show my father that taking calculated risks, if we’re smart about it, can pay off in spades. And that's why I'm here. I want us to expand from supplying just the stores and restaurants in our county. I want our new storefront in London to become a place where people come to find exciting new brands and products they may have tried on vacation but have never seen in the United Kingdom. Ghana is the last country I’m visiting before the end of the year. The relationships I establish and the new trade contracts I sign will be crucial to seeing my plans bear fruit.
So, it’s a real problem that I’m as distracted as a fifteen-year-old boy who's just seen his first Playboy pin-up. A pin-up who’s fully clothed and who wears a scowl instead of a beckoning smile. It’s almost time for dinner, and I'm salivating for a glimpse of her now.
It's not any female company I want. I've been propositioned more times than I can count today. I thought the women at home were forward, but they're like docile lambs compared to the predators at this resort. A few of them have even rubbed hands down my chest, the sun glinting off the diamond rings adorning their left ring fingers.
I think about Emma and wonder if I’m being too impulsive. This is completely uncharted territory for me. I’ve never had a causal fling. I probably shouldn’t start now. But, I’ve never been attracted to someone instantaneously before. It not just her looks that intrigue me, it’s all the glimpses into her personality, too. She was right, we haven’t exactly gotten along since we met, but I can’t stop thinking about her. And for once in my life, I want to know what it’s like to do something just because I want to. To not have to worry about my responsibilities or the consequences.
My waiter asks for the third time whether I'd like to order anything. I start to respond in the negative when I see Kojo walk in, and instead decide to order him a beer. He's a good sport to come meet me, and I'm glad he'll be here to distract Bambi. I want to try and talk to Emma tonight, without an argument breaking out.
"Harry, am I late?" he says with a pleasant smile.
"No, I’m early.” I grin back and stand up to shake his hand. “Thanks for coming, K. You sure you don't mind?" I ask.
"Not at all. If she’s as pretty as you said, this will be fun. As long as she doesn’t ask me to buy her a new phone before dinner’s over, we’ll get on fine.” Kojo grins and takes a sip of his waiting beer as soon as he sits down.
I laugh dubiously. “Do girls ask for phones on first dates here?”
“You’d be surprised. Some of these girls come to the resort just to find a man to fleece,” he says dryly.
“She’s very pretty,” I reassure him. “She and her cousin are on vacation. I think you’ll like her. But if you don’t, wait until dinner’s over to show it. Please.”
He grins at me and lifts his beer to his mouth. “No problem. Restraint is my middle name.” And then he takes a huge sip of his drink.
“You’re such an idiot,” Bambi sneers at Kojo. “What do you know about the plight of students in this country?”
“We spent the week together.” Kojo spits at her, his fist pounds the table for emphasis. So much for his restraint. I take a huge gulp of my beer and stare at my food in dismay.
“She enjoyed all the nice meals I bought her, enjoyed riding in my nice air-conditioned car and pretended that we were going to keep in touch after she left.”
He twists his lips in disgust.
“And then one morning, I woke up, and she was gone. On the final morning, my bed was empty, and the only thing in my wallet was a note saying, “Thanks for the cash. Had fun.”
“And is it the fault of every woman that you’re too stupid to know the difference between a girl who’s working the resort and someone who’s really on vacation and looking for a good time?”
“Oh, I see. So you’re one of them,” he retorted, and the conversation went downhill from there. When Emma chimes in, it becomes an avalanche.
Kojo leans forward, returning her sneer with one of his own. “I know that girls like you do nothing but hunt for sugar daddies, act like sluts, and then move on to your next victim once you’ve bled them dry.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” She shoots back, leaning across the table toward him, pointing her finger backwards at her chest.
“I know enough.” He returns spitefully. He leans forward, too. His finger pointed at her in accusation. “You think that because you’re beautiful, you can get away with whatever you want.”
“I do not think anything—wait.” Bambi interrupts herself and leans back in her chair,
“You think I’m beautiful?” she asks softly.
Kojo shrugs, but his face loses some of its tension. I feel a flicker of hope. Maybe we’ve reached a stalemate.
“You know,” Emma’s voice is full of scorn as she moves her angry glare between Kojo and me. “Men like you are what’s wrong with the world. You think women owe you something.”
My desire for peace forgotten, I jump to my friend’s defense.
“He didn’t say she owed him anything. Except for maybe the truth,” I added, unwilling to let Kojo, no matter how much he deserved it, face two angry women alone.
“Why does she owe him that? He slept with her. What else does he want? Her soul?” Emma says in exasperation.
“No, but maybe it meant something to him,” I shoot back.
“Well, more’s the pity,” she says, taking a sip of her wine and glaring at me.
“Really? So, sex means nothing?” I ask her, tilting my head at her, knowing that she couldn’t really mean it.
“Exactly. And if you’re hooking up for one night, it’s less than nothing.” She looks away from me, but not before I see the discomfort in her eyes.
“Good to know,” I say under my breath, but when she flinches slightly, I know she heard me. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before speaking again.
“Look, Kojo,” Emma says softly, in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “I don’t think anyone should use anyone else. Especially not for money. But if they’re adults and they’re both willing, there shouldn’t be expectations beyond that.”
Bambi snorts in disgust. “You’re being too nice, Emma. He’s stupid and probably cheap, too. He obviously thinks treating his girlfriend,” she says ‘girlfriend’ with a sarcastic drawl, “to a meal or whatever is too much to ask.”
“Is it also too much to ask that if you’re a prostitute, you make that clear before you start whispering sweet nothings,” Kojo says, and Porsha gasps in affront and throws her napkin down and stands up.
“You are not worthy of my company,” she declares with the dignity of a Queen at court, and then she turns to leave.
“Good riddance,” Kojo says and then throws his own napkin and stalks off behind her.
Emma stands up, glares at me and hurries after them.
I sit there, staring at the three empty chairs. My plans for the evening are blown away like the grains of sand on the beach behind us. I look down at my full plate of food in disgust. I decide to finish my wine before going back to my room.
I’ve just asked for my check when I sense eyes on me. I look up to find her standing in the entrance watching me. When I see the look in her eyes, I know I’m probably not going to enjoy whatever she’s come back to say or do. They are alight with annoyance, and one glance tells me she's here to wreak havoc.
My heart stutters in a violent trip that has me rubbing the center of my chest. And not because I’m afraid of her anger. It’s because, even in the heat of her self-righteous indignation, her beauty puts the stunning backdrop of this paradise to shame.
And of course, she's come back to give me a piece of her mind. I want to walk over to her and kiss that mouth before she can say words that will spoil everything.
I shake my head hard and fast.
After what happened at dinner, I clearly need to think twice about getting involved with anyone I meet here. Especially her. She's more likely to slit my throat than go down on me.
I sit up straight in my wicker chair and pick up the glass of Pinot Noir I ordered with dinner. I take a fortifying sip of the fruit forward wine as she reaches my table. She's practically vibrating with anger, her hands clenched in fists at her side. She's dressed in all black - loose fitting trousers and black tunic. Again, covered up completely in clothes that don't make sense on a hot, humid, tropical island.
She’s sweating, the curls that seem to perpetually cling to her neck flutter slightly as the large overhead fans whirl above us.
I wonder what her sweat tastes like.
I clear my throat and keep my expression neutral, but I'm unable to do anything about the fact that my pulse is hammering in my ears as I realize that I've never been so affected by a woman, ever. And she loathes me.
"Emma." Her eyes widen in what looks like a split second of confusion at my use of her name. But then she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me.
“Why would you invite someone like him to dinner?” she demands.
“How was I to know your cousin is a gold digger and that you think it’s a virtue to be praised?” I respond. I’m annoyed and frustrated by this whole fucking evening.
Her mouth falls open in shock, and then it twists into a frown.
She runs a hand through her long, curling hair and clears her throat as she gains her composure. "Now that you’ve thoroughly ruined my vacation, I thought I’d come and say goodbye formally.”
“That hardly seems necessary, it’s not as if-" I say quickly and ready for this encounter to be over.
“You gave me money the night we met,” she interjects, surprising me with the random comment.
"Yes, wasn’t it enough?” I ask, confused by her reincarnation of this subject. Maybe she’s a gold digger, too. I start to reach for my wallet.
"You're unbelievable," she hisses, her eyes narrowing to tiny slits. "I don't want your money." She flings the last word at me and glowers down her perfectly symmetrical, slightly pugnacious nose. Even when she's angry, her voice is soft and melodious.
"You're so beautiful," I say before I can stop myself.
Her head jerks backward, her mouth falling open and her eyes widening in utter disbelief.
"Beautiful? Did you hear what I said?" she sputters.
"Yes, I heard you. And yes, beautiful. Very. It's too bad your personality leaves so much to be desired," I return dryly, and look down at my wine trying to decide if I should finish it before I leave.
The waiter walks up and drops a plate of cake and ice cream that I don’t remember ordering in front of me, and says “Enjoy,” without even coming to a full stop.
I look up and find her glaring down at me, her little hands balled into fists at her sides.
“You’re still here.”
"I’m leaving. Just wanted to give you this," she grits out, her lips barely moving and the muscle in her jaw jumping. She raises her left hand, holding a tightly clenched fist over my plate. She opens it to reveal a mangled clump of pound notes in her palm. Her plump lips broaden, and the corners tip up in a smile that is at odds with the stony anger in her beautiful eyes. I almost sigh at how bitterly disappointing all of this is.
