Making the Hook-Up (21 page)

Surprisingly, I wanted to be an island girl again, running along the beach with sweet, sticky cane juice running down my face and drying as I gazed up at the sun, then down, transforming the world before me with a thousand prisms of light.

My heart ached for my grandmother's house, for soft white sand and the sway of the ocean. My life in New York was over. A large part of me had died there. It wasn't home anymore; it hadn't been for a long time. Home was Zoë and finding the girl I'd lost, getting wrapped up in the ins and outs of small-town life. I boarded the boat with a sense of anticipation.

I was enjoying a local Kalik beer and watching the sunset when I heard a familiar voice calling my name. I turned and smiled in surprise and pleasure. “Brian!”

Brian smiled. “I knew I'd recognize that amazing booty anywhere.”

I waved away his compliment. “Just come on over here and give me a hug!”

Brian cleared the distance between us in two steps and swept me up in his strong arms.

I sighed. “God, you feel like home.”

“And you look like heaven though the thoughts I'm having about you right now are anything but godly.”

I'm thirty-four, five foot eight, most of which is leg. I've got
curves in all the right places with smooth medium almond skin, dark chocolate eyes and a mass of kinky curls framing a round, beautiful face. I'm well aware of the stares I get from men.

Brian placed me back on the ground and stared into my eyes. My expression told him I wasn't having the same kind of thoughts. We hadn't seen each other in years. He obviously didn't see us as childhood friends anymore.

The look in his brown eyes told me he wanted to take our friendship to another level. We'd flirted with the idea of dating in high school, but it'd never really happened. More than likely the fault was mine more than his. He seemed more determined now. The way he was devouring me with his eyes made me squirm a little.

I inhaled his musky cologne. How many women would love to be in this position? Brian had paid his way through college by modeling. His tall frame was perfectly chiseled, and that mouth of his with those sensual lips was so close to my own.

It would've been so easy to fall for his charm if I could forget the image of him crying over a skinned knee when we were ten or any number of embarrassing childhood memories. The last thing I needed was a complicated relationship. All in all, I had enough reasons tumbling inside me to resist the lure of Brian's lips.

I pulled away from him. “I bet you're getting that reaction from a host of willing women,” I said playfully.

Brian remained serious. He closed the small gap I'd created between us. “I'd give up every woman in the world to have you in my arms forever. You know that, you've always known that.”

With a little more force, I managed to pull away from him. “Look Brian, yes, I know how you feel about me. But do you think you could wait awhile before trying to get into my pants?”

Brian smiled that devilish smile I'm sure made a lot of women cream. “I'm sorry, you just look so damn good I couldn't help
myself. How long are you planning on sticking around town? I'm here for a month then I'm off to China.” He sighed. “The life of an investment banker is not an easy one.”

I laughed. “Did you throw out that little bit of information to impress me?”

“Did it?” he asked hopefully.

“It impressed me enough for you to buy me another beer.” I took his hand and led him over to the outdoor bar. “It's going to take a lot more for you to get into the thong though.”

As Brian and I played catch-up on the four-hour boat ride, a plan started forming in the back of my mind. I needed to explore my sexual hang-ups and I felt I could trust Brian. He was warm and familiar and sexy and best of all, he had the hots for me. Maybe if I opened myself to what he was offering it could be beneficial to both of us.

But screwing Brian and working on my issues would have to take a back seat to getting my grandmother's house into some semblance of order, I decided, immediately after entering the old place.

“What the hell have I gotten myself into?” I asked the cracking walls as I stood in the middle of the vast living room in the midst of a minor panic attack. Some type of trash covered every inch of floor space. The early-1800s British Colonial three-story house looked to have been a squatter's paradise. I hadn't been home since opening my restaurant. My poor excuse for a father was supposed to be living there and renting out the bedrooms to make some extra money.

“I should've known I couldn't depend on that son-of-a-bitch,” I muttered angrily. I should never have allowed him into my grandmother's house.

I forced my eyes and thoughts away from the massive clean up ahead of me and gazed out the expansive windows to the
spectacular view of the morning sun seemingly ascending out of the ocean. It was breathtaking but I couldn't bypass the terribly overgrown garden, old furniture and god knows what else, cluttering the view.

Half an hour later, Xavier, the contractor I'd found after calling around, walked into the room, noted my look of mild terror, and smiled. “Don't worry, by the end of the day this place will be almost livable.”

I smiled brightly. I believed him. Xavier possessed a quiet strength that said he delivered on all his promises.

I would be staying with Zoë for the time being, but I didn't want to intrude for too long. I wasn't able to give up my dream of owning a restaurant so I added renovating and opening my grandmother's restaurant to my hefty to-do list. I couldn't afford to get overwhelmed at a little trash and a man who'd been disappointing me my entire life.

Hours later I stood in the same spot facing the opposite direction from that morning and watched the sun say goodnight. This time I was able to enjoy the show. Though the real work had yet to begin, most of the trash had been hauled away. I could actually see that the beautiful wooden floors wouldn't need as much work as I'd feared.

 

I'd never worked so hard in my life. Every inch of my body hurt, but at the end of the first week I had a scrubbed-down bathroom, an outdated but working kitchen and a beautiful antique bed I couldn't wait to fall into at night.

It was also at the end of the first week that the dreams started again. For most of my life I'd had a recurring dream of drowning in a bathtub. As always, I awoke in the midst of a scream, bolting straight up as I cried out. It took a few minutes for my brain to register where I was and that my underwear and
tank top were plastered to my skin with sweat. I got out of bed and stripped out of my clothes. The humid tropical air immediately embraced me like some prudish grandmother trying to cover my nakedness.

I left my bedroom and headed downstairs to the vintage fifties fridge whose normally tepid air felt arctic good against my hot skin. I pulled out a bottle of water and carried it to the living room where I curled up in a chair and stared out into the night.

A small island night was quite different from one in a big city. There was little to fill the silence, which left me alone with my thoughts. I got up and retrieved the photo album I'd found in one of the many boxes my grandmother had stored in the attic.

I wanted to take my time going through her memories. I knew buried amongst the things she'd collected over ninety-five years were pictures and belongings of my mother. My mother had died in a plane crash when I was only five. I had little memory of her, but my grandmother had made sure I understood what an amazing woman she'd been. I'd taken some pictures when I'd left for the States, but I knew most of her things would've been difficult for Grandma to part with. Her only child had been taken from her far too soon.

This was a happy album. I flipped it open and laughed at the first photo; me just a few days old in a pink dress with a bow that was bigger than me. The album was all about me, from infancy through high school. In each photo I looked happy, though as I flipped through I remembered how painful my childhood had been.

I'd spent too much of it trying to get my father to love me. My parents had never married and after only a year together, my mother had finally had enough of my dad's jealousy and moved back in with Grandma right after she became pregnant with me.

After she died, he'd promised I could live with him, and I believed him for the next twelve years of my life. He broke every promise he ever made to me, missed almost every important event and made me question my own validity as a human being. I always thought, maybe if I were smarter or prettier or funnier, he would love me. I'd spent my childhood trying to be what I thought he wanted me to be. It had become so ingrained in me it was now a part of who I'd become.

I closed the album. It wasn't so happy after all. The truth was painful but it needed to be faced. I needed to prove to myself that I wasn't still a scared little girl longing for Daddy's approval.

The following morning I drove to the farmers' market. It was time to begin testing recipes. I wanted a clear vision for my restaurant long before it opened. Thinking about food always made me happy, and I was happily concocting different flavor parings in my head when I bumped into Brian.

“I just dialed your number,” he said after hugging me.

“Well, here I am saving you a call.”

“Well, actually you're ruining my little surprise. I just wanted to make sure you were home. I was going to surprise you with a picnic brunch on the beach.” He held up the picnic basket. “Just need some fresh fruits.”

“Oh, how sweet. I can still go home and act surprised.”

“You silly girl.” He pulled me against him and this time I didn't resist. When his mouth descended I accepted his kiss. It felt a little strange, but I reminded myself that I needed to change. Eventually, the sexual feelings would come. We brought fruits then headed for the beach.

The food, sun and company were just what I needed to take my mind off my father. We tried to top each other with embarrassing stories from our childhoods. Brian had always been able to make me laugh, and I hadn't realized until right then how
attractive a sense of humor really was. When he leaned in to kiss me, I wrapped my hands around his neck and kissed him with all the fervor I could muster. I felt butterflies in my stomach and wanted to cry out in pure joy.

“I want to make love to you right here, right now,” Brian whispered.

“Can we just take this one step at a time?” I asked. “Even getting this far was a big step for me.”

He kissed the tip of my nose. “Of course. I've waited for you for years. A little more time won't hurt, well, actually blue balls does hurt.”

I slapped his hand playfully. “You will not get blue balls.” I stood up and the ocean breeze blew my dress up exposing my lacy thong. I looked down at Brian and his eyes had darkened with desire.

“Some things are worth the wait.” I walked back to his car, feeling his eyes on me. I was beginning to feel like a natural woman and it was wonderful.

I drove home in a state of bliss singing along with the radio at the top of my lungs. I was in the middle of Bon Jovi's “Living on a Prayer” when my phone rang. I turned down the radio then picked up my phone. I said a merry hello. As I listened to the conversation on the other end my entire body went cold.

Brian must've accidentally pressed redial on his phone. I heard him telling another guy how he was finally going to get some from me. Apparently I was the only woman who'd ever refused him, and he was under the impression that no woman could resist him. I was nothing but another notch he wanted to add to his belt.

I felt angry, betrayed and sick to my stomach. The old me would've just given in to the feelings but my newfound moxie started stirring and a plan was soon devised. Hoping Brian
hadn't realized what had happened, I called him a few hours later and invited him to dinner. I implied that there was more than food on the menu. He arrived almost foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog. We went through the motions of dinner then proceeded to the bedroom.

I told him I wanted to be in charge. When I ordered him to strip, he took his time prancing around the room completely taking it for granted that I was as much in love with his body as he was. He did have a beautiful body, but he could go fuck himself or find some other fool to do it.

I stared at his cock, jutting out as proudly as its owner. I reached out and touched it. It was big, beautiful and brick hard.

“He'll make you forget every other man you've been with,” Brian said confidently.

“I would have to forget my last boyfriend in order to enjoy it. He was much bigger, you see, and when he stripped for me, I would come just from watching him.”

He stared at me. “What the hell are you doing?”

I walked over to the bed and sat down. I crossed my legs in a manner perfected by Sharon Stone in the film,
Basic Instinct,
giving Brian a flash of my bare pussy.

His basic instinct was to twitch, his cock now dribbling for what he now realized he'd never have.

“You heard my conversation today,” he surmised.

“Yeah. I guess I'll always be the one who got away.”

“Well, not really. If you hadn't heard my conversation, you'd be screaming my name right now.”

A little of the pain seeped through the anger. “I really thought I knew you, Brian.”

With an exasperated sigh, he knelt in front of me. “Mia, I'm sorry. You can't insult a man like that and expect him not to react. And what you overheard was just me playing it up for
the guys. You know how much I care about you.” He placed his hand on my knee but I quickly pushed it away.