24 1/2 Kisses (A Bashir Family Romance) (6 page)

I grabbed the book and opened it to the first page. My first thought was to scribble a few expletives, but then I decided to rise above the situation and not discredit the book I worked so hard to create.

He admired Gandhi—an irony given how Dev’s life turned out—so I picked out a relevant quote.

“Be the change you want to see in the world.”

After I signed his book, I couldn’t help the next question from tumbling out.

“Are you happy with the path you’ve chosen?”

I instantly regretted it.

He searched my face for some hint of emotion, but I hid it well.

“Are you, Scarlett?”

His question hung dead in the air, dark, foreboding. It was a question I hadn’t dared to ask myself honestly, and I guess he hadn’t either.

“I think I’m the one conducting the interview. If you don’t want to answer the question then say so. I have a few more I can ask in its place. I’ve only used fifteen.”

He raised his eyebrows and tried to look cooperative.

“I think you’ve used more than that.”

“Nope, I’m keeping careful track. You can see my notes if you like.”

“No need for an official audit. I trust you.” His voice became serious. “I’ve always trusted you.”

As his words punched me in the gut, the Bentley came to a stop at the curb. I wanted to jump out and make my escape, but Dev had other ideas.

“Hungry? We can continue this over brunch.”

Before I could protest, he was outside and offering his hand.

“They make a perfect Egg’s Benedict here—exactly the way you like it.”

I took his hand and got out the car.

“If we can finally finish this interview, I’ll eat a pile of glass.”

We sat outside in the sunny summer weather at a little table with a perfect view of the hustle and bustle of the city. Before I could even scan the menu, Dev ordered for us.

He noticed the look of annoyance on my face. “I haven’t forgotten what you like, Scarlett.” He paused, leaving the meaning dubious. “That reminds me, do you still have that obnoxious nut addiction?”

“It’s not crack cocaine, Dev. They’re almonds. They’re healthy.”

He started to put his usual five heaping teaspoons of sugar into his black tea.

“I see you still have your sugar addiction.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I recall a few other addictions of yours.”

I wanted to ask him what he was referring to…but I knew. Images flashed in my head for a brief second.

His lips on my thigh...

The heat of his breath…

Our bodies intertwined…

Stop it, Scarlett!

“Shall we continue with the reason we’re both here?” I interjected, willing myself back from memory lane.

“Certainly. As I said before, I’m all yours.”

Fueled by endless cups of strong tea, I went through my list of boring but obligatory interview questions. I was relieved that he didn’t tease me or try to unnerve me with his double entendres or thinly disguised references to our past.

He had given me a decent interview,
finally
.

When I realized that we had covered all 24 questions, I put my pen down and put on my most contrived counterfeit smile.

“We’re done.”

“Are we?” He replied, with a hint of challenge in his tone. “By my accounts, you have a half question left, Scarlett. It would be a pity to just leave it there un-asked. It was be like leaving that last salty, delicious almond.”

I looked at him incredulously. “If I knew how to ask a half question, I would. But since it is entirely undefined and an impossible notion, I’m fine leaving it.”

He pursed his lips. “That’s fair. Tell you what, I’ll give you one last question then.”

I was surprised at his cooperation and then remembered how he always has an angle. He immediately proved true to form.

“My only condition is that you must ask it…in the Hamptons. There’s an annual summer party at the Franklin Estate next week. I’d like you to go.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Just for
one
question?”

When would he stop playing with me?

“Yes. But it can be anything you want. No restrictions. Forget all the legal ease my lawyers faxed over.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. What did he mean? What did he want me to ask him? If I could ask him anything and get the truth…what would it be? My mind started to run.

“Surely there is something you want to ask me, Scarlett?” he asked quietly, obviously not talking about the article anymore.

Push the feelings down. Push them down.

Before I could come to my senses and tell him it was a stupid idea and I wouldn’t play his game any longer, he threw a couple hundred dollar bills on the table and abruptly stood up.

“I have a meeting in ten minutes. Ashley will be in contact with the details. See you in the Hamptons.”

And then he was gone.

I
thought about Dev all evening as I waited in my apartment for my date with Eric. I decided I wouldn’t let Dev invade our time together.

Maybe Eric was the key to get my mind off of him, finally and for good.

I put my hair a loose bun and slipped on a summer dress and a light sweater. By the time Eric showed up, I was more than ready to leave my memories in the apartment behind me. They could stay here and sulk and stress over Dev; I was going to have fun with Eric.

When I opened the door, he had two motorcycle helmets in one hand and a large backpack in another.

“Ready?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye.

“Please tell me we’re not skydiving.”

“Nope. I’m taking you to East River Park for a picnic.”

I hugged him tightly on the back of his motorcycle and as we weaved in and out of the stalled city traffic. It was a far cry from Dev’s fancy stretch limousine, but I decided I could get used it.

At the park, we found a spot with a spectacular view of the water and he laid a blanket down for us to sit on.

“You like to be outside, don’t you?” I asked, unsurprised he had brought me there.

He started to lay out an assortment of sandwiches, some fruit and a bottle of white wine.

“I would live outside if I could avoid being arrested for vagrancy.”

He flashed me his white smile and I instantly felt comfortable in his presence. He had nothing to hide or conceal. There was no hidden agenda or dark, confusing games with Eric. After what I had been through with Dev, it was…
refreshing
.

We ate and talked and fed the pigeons. He made me laugh with his unique observations on life.

“Think about this Scarlett, people spend all day indoors amazed at everything that
people
have created—like smart phones and the latest useless app.” He waved his arms around, gesturing to the natural beauty surrounding us. “When all this is just outside and is infinitely more impressive.”

“Is that why you became a photographer?”

He pulled out his camera and aimed it at me. I smiled nervously.

“To photograph beautiful things, yes, it is.”

He snapped a picture of me and I turned away covering my face with my hands.

“Stop it, Eric! Surely the pigeons over there are more interesting.”

He snapped a few more of me and I played along, posing like a wannabe model.

“Nope, not even a fair contest.”

He finally put the camera down and moved in closer. I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but I couldn’t read my own feelings.

Do I want to?

Before I could answer myself, he leaned in and kissed me softly on my lips. It was…
nice
.

I smiled at him and wondered if we just needed more time before I would feel the sparks I felt so strongly with Dev. He returned my smile and put his arm around me, and we watched the pigeons fly off searching for refuge from the night which was quickly approaching.

When he brought me home he kissed me again outside of my apartment, this time a bit more passionately. I kissed him back searching to feel something more—something closer to what I felt when Dev kissed me that first time in his parent’s house.

Would I ever feel that again?

Just give it time, Scarlett…

After he left, I went up to my apartment and decided the problem was that I was seeing Dev and it was messing with my head. As long as he was still in my life, how could I expect to move on?

That night I lay in my bed alone, but wishing I wasn’t. I tried to imagine Eric there with me, his cool blue eyes and wide smile, his broad shoulders and healthy tan—he was hardly offensive to look at. But my imagination would always drift to Dev and the way he would lie behind me, his warm, naked skin against mine, and his strong arm wrapped around my waist possessively.

It was in the early mornings when I wanted him the most, half-awake from my slumber and feeling for him under the cool sheets, the room still dark. And he would stir to my touch, his lips finding mine, his body always ready and hungry for whatever I desired…

I bit my lower lip trying to quell the burning I felt for him.

It’s too late, Scarlett. Think about Eric instead.

But Dev refused to leave my mind. It was a torture that I couldn’t endure any longer.

Before I fell asleep, I firmly resolved to end it right then. He was poisoning my new life in New York. I had enough material for a decent article so I would cut off all communications with Dev Bashir immediately. I wouldn’t go to the Hamptons next week.

I just needed to get my boss to agree to it.

***

“You’re not going to leave a question on the table, Scarlett.
Especially
if he’s going to let you ask if Gerald Franklin is his father.”

I sat in front of Bill’s desk seething.

“You don’t get it. This had nothing to do with the interview! He’s—he’s just torturing me for fun. Because of the way we broke up.”

Bill rubbed his eyes and then sat down. He knew he was being a hard-ass.

“Just go and ask the question then get out. That’s all I’ll ask from you. If he wants to play with you some more, I won’t pressure you for anything else. Deal?”

I wasn’t going to get what I wanted, but at this point I didn’t even know what that was. Part of me wanted to go to the Hamptons and see Dev. I wanted to figure out the riddle that was him—
that was us
. But the other part knew I had to be rid of him if I was going to move on with my life. This wasn’t going to be easy, but maybe this could be a win-win: Bill gets his story and I get closure.

But I didn’t want to go alone.

“I want to take Eric with me.”

“Done.”

T
he day of the party in the Hamptons, Dev sent a car and driver to my apartment to fetch me. I had hoped that I would have Eric to keep me company for the two-hour drive, but he sent a text at the last minute saying he had to finish a shoot and would meet me at the party.

As I climbed into the back of the expensive black sedan, I hoped I was dressed appropriately in my one-shoulder white cocktail dress. It was one that Annika picked out and said would be “perfect for a weekend in the Hamptons with some rich guy.” I laughed to myself when I realized the irony of her comment.

Yeah, Annika, the rich guy in the Hamptons happens to be your brother…

I wished I could sleep during the trip, or work, or read—anything else but mull over the past. It seemed that not being able to distract myself with some other activity allowed memories to creep in. And whereas I would normally push them away, I let them take over my imagination for entire drive.

I thought about how close I had once been to a blissful happy ending with the man of my dreams. And I pondered how cruel life had to be to snatch all the things I loved away from me.

My hand felt for my dad’s gold cross around my neck. Since he died, it was all that I had left of him. I almost didn’t get to keep it because that parasite Renee had already squirreled it away—probably planning to hock it for cigarette money. But Dev got it back for me. He somehow always knew what I needed from him.

Did I know what
he needed?

Before I could answer myself, I was distracted by a gleaming white mansion looming over us.

We were here.

The sun was just making its way to the other side of the sky when I arrived at the estate of the illustrious and wealthy Franklin Family. The gleaming white mansion looked like something out of Architectural Digest, at least three stories high of white pillars and crystal clear windows, with the Atlantic Ocean at its back and gardens and a pool to its side. When I walked up the steps to the entryway in the large rotunda at the center of the house, I heard music and voices spill out from the beach. This was obviously a huge party.

A butler met me at the door and checked for name from a clipboard, and before I could take two more steps inside, I was offered a glass of champagne from someone else.

So this was how Dev lived now.

I was impressed with his childhood home in the gated estate in Fairview, Texas, but this was a whole new level of affluence and I felt—and probably looked—quite out of place.

I made it to the backyard which was brimming with the who’s-who of society. I doubt any of them had ever driven past a mobile home let alone grown up in one like I did.

I scanned the crowd for Eric but didn’t see his friendly blue eyes. I realized that I didn’t see Dev there either.

Making me wait as usual.

I found a spot in the corner of the yard that gave me a good vantage point and carefully sipped my champagne hoping it would take the edge off my nerves. I wondered, why did Dev insist on bringing me here?

I wasn’t there more than a few minutes when an older, silver-fox-handsome gentleman holding a champagne glass approached me with a gleaming white smile—one that didn’t seem to match his age. He offered his manicured hand.

“Gerald Franklin, welcome to my home.”

I shook his hand and tried to see some resemblance to Dev on his face. It was the oddest feeling, knowing he could be Dev’s father. How did it happen? Mrs. Bashir and Gerald Franklin? I couldn’t comprehend it.

“Hi, I’m Scarlett. Scarlett Sommerfield.”

“Sommerfield? Any relation to Jack Sommerfield in Hyannis Port?”

I was half-tempted to say
, “No, I’m related to the Sommerfields of Fairview, Lot 25, Row 3 in Live Oak Mobile Home Park.”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m from Texas.”

His smile was disarming. It reminded me…
of Dev
.

“How is it Texas women are so gorgeous? Is it the water out there that makes women so unbelievably enticing?”

I couldn’t believe it. Dev’s presumed father—the billionaire banker—was flirting with me.

“We eat a lot of brisket. I think that’s the secret.”

“In that case, I’m serving fifty pounds of brisket at the next party.” He took a long sip of champagne—definitely not his first glass—then gave me a wink. “Scarlett, if you want a private tour of the house, I’d be happy to show you around.”

I was innocent, but not that innocent. I knew exactly what he was suggesting.

“That’s so nice of you, but I’m here to meet Dev Bashir. I’m with
Time Magazine
.”

Hi face fell.

“So you’re a reporter? And Dev invited you?”

“Yes and yes.”

“That kid never ceases to amaze me.” He looked at me hard as if putting something together in his mind. “From Texas, huh?”

“Yes. Born and raised.”

He raised his champagne glass in a mock toast announcing his departure.

“Well it was nice finally meeting you, Scarlett. Good luck tonight.”

As I puzzled over the meaning of his words, he walked away.

“Finally meeting you…and good luck?”

My cell phone buzzed with a text drawing me out of my obsessive thoughts.

Running late, sorry! Just leaving the city now. –Eric

Damn!

Eric wouldn’t be here for two more hours
at least
and Dev was a no-show so far. I decided to make the best of it and wandered over to check out the appetizers. A table was laden with every kind of seafood imaginable, caviar, chilled lobster, fresh fruits and gourmet edibles. I suddenly wished for a heaping bowl of basmati rice and curried chicken, or spicy samosas packed with lentils, ground lamb and coriander—but there was no indication of anything remotely Indian on that table.

I nibbled on a shrimp; it tasted of dill and lemon. It was…
nice
but didn’t have the heat I was craving. I spied the caviar and thought I would try a little.

As I scooped a pile onto a blini, a voice from behind stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Scarlett, so nice to see you again. You’re all grown up now.”

The tiny fish eggs spilled onto the white linen table cloth. I knew that voice. That terrible, horrible, vile voice.

I made myself face him. Rhett looked slightly older, a crease or two around his blue eyes, and a tan that was more for vanity’s sake rather than sport. The last time I saw him, he was being hauled away in a police car, arrested for attempted rape.

My attempted rape.

I said nothing to him. It took all my energy to control my breathing.

“Don’t tell me you came all the way out here to see me?” He smiled sadistically like a cat cornering a frightened mouse. 

I finally found my voice.

“I’m here to see Dev. I didn’t know you would be here.”

A band was setting up to play behind him. I avoided Rhett’s eyes and instead stared at a musician who was testing out the microphone.

“Well it must be serendipity then that I just flew in from Greece. The family forgot to send me an invite to their summer party, so I thought I would just pop in.”

There was a reckless energy about him—like a man who had lost everything and therefore had nothing left to lose.

The band started to play a slow seductive number, and the dance-floor filled up. I remained frozen.

Rhett grabbed my plate and champagne glass and set them down on the table; the liquor on his breath was pungent.

Then he grabbed my hand.

“Shall we dance?” he asked, a devious glint in his eye.

I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. But I couldn’t move.

And then Dev was there.

Before I knew what happened, Rhett was ushered away from me with a stern stare and Dev’s sure hand on his arm. They both walked hurriedly away from the yard and into the house. No words passed between them. It was if Dev had caught a remorseful party crasher on his property and not the entitled son of Gerald Franklin.

A few minutes later, Dev returned alone. He looked embarrassed and apologetic.

“Scarlett, I’m so sorry for that. I didn’t know he would be here.”

I felt raw, violated and angry. I was done with the games.

“Why did you ask me to come here, Dev? I just want the truth.”

Without taking his eyes from mine, he grabbed my hand and led me to the dance floor. The sun was slowly sinking behind the mansion and painting the yard in shadows. The garden was lit with hundreds of lights and a large summer moon hung low over the ocean.

It was…magical.

But I wasn’t going to give into his weird game. I jerked my arm away from him making my feelings clear. A few people at the party looked our way, curious about the drama involving their rich, banking prince.

Dev leaned down and whispered in my ear. “I just wanted to dance with you. Please.”

I wanted to smack him and scream that it isn’t this easy—that you can’t just go through what we went through and then pick up where we left off.

But I didn’t. Embarrassed by the attention we were drawing from the crowd, I quietly nodded my consent and offered myself to him.

Feeling myself melt into his strong embrace—his scent and everything I loved about him so close to me—I made the decision to enjoy this one dance.

It would surely be our last.

For five lovely minutes it was if we were outside of time, our happy ending intact. I breathed him in and relished his warm skin on mine. But I wouldn’t look into his eyes as we danced, and kept my face turned away, but I could feel them on me.

I could always feel them on me.

When the song was over, the magic seemed to dissipate and I remembered why I was there.

Ask the question and get your damn closure, Scarlett.

Before I could say anything, he broke free of me.

“I’ll be right back. Please don’t go anywhere.”

He didn’t wait for me to answer before walking away. I let out a deep breath and decided to find the ladies room and regroup.

Inside the palatial mansion, a butler directed me to the bathroom and just as I approached it, someone grabbed my arm from behind.

I whipped around half-expecting Rhett again, but was surprised when I saw a tall, leggy brunette.

Greta.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she offered, taking her hand quickly away. “I just saw you dancing out there with Dev.”

I wasn’t sure what she was getting at.

“Hi Greta. Nice to see you again.”

She scrunched her face in severe thought as she looked at me.

“I know who you are now. Wow, I can’t believe I didn’t see it when I saw you in his office.”

She laughed sardonically to herself.

“I’m sorry, I don’t quite follow you.”

“It just hit me when I saw you dance with him, you’re
the girl
.” She shook her head like she had finally solved some great mystery.

“Again,
not following you
.”

“You were the girl in his apartment that morning.”

I knew exactly what she was talking about but I played dumb.

“I’m sorry, I don’t quite recall that.”

She snorted. “Right. He only begged me to drop by his apartment just at the moment you
happened to be there
. I really liked him, too, until I realized he was just using me to make you jealous.”

What the hell was she talking about?

“Greta, are you saying he knew I was there?”

She suddenly looked like she regretted saying too much.

“I think you better ask Dev. I just wanted to meet you—properly—now that I know who you are.”

“And who am I?”

She paused in thought.

“You’re the girl who wrecked everyone else’s chances with the most eligible bachelor in New York.”

Before I could ask her anything else, she turned on her black stiletto heel and left.

After I primped and preened in the marble-white bathroom, I returned to the party which was now in full swing and looked for Dev. I didn’t have to look for long. He was immediately at my side as he had been waiting for me.

“I thought you left me,” he asked, standing next to me so close I could feel his arm brush against mine leaving a slight tingle.

“I haven’t asked my question yet.”

I turned to him and searched his face for some clue what he was feeling. The little revelation about Greta was bouncing around in my head.

“Are you sure you don’t want dance again?”

“No, I don’t want to dance again, Dev.”

“Okay, then ask your question. Anything.”