Sky High (Three Contemporary Novella's) (8 page)

“We’re supposed to go to dinner right now with Charlie and Jeremy,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed and her head falling back against the door. Charlie and Jeremy probably heard the “thunk” her head made against the wood. They probably heard the moan she just let out, too. This was highly unprofessional.

Simon shifted his attention to her mouth, pressing a brief, forceful kiss to her lips. She’d barely tasted his tongue when he pulled away. “There’s no way I can sit through another interminable business dinner with you next to me all night. We’ll make some excuse. We’ll both come down with sudden attacks of food poisoning, or laryngitis, or Legionnaire’s disease. I don’t care. But we’re not going to dinner with Charlie and Jeremy.”

She was smiling, a wide, joyful smile that made her cheeks hurt. “Okay.” Simon was smiling back, just as wide, just as joyful.

She could feel his grin in his kiss. They were both smiling so much they could barely kiss, breaking into laughter, touching faces, lips, hair.

“Tonight we’re not leaving my hotel room,” he said, tugging her hips close to his and sliding his palm over her ass, a blatant indication of what he had planned.

“Except my flight is at dawn tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” He deflated, sighing and resting his forehead against hers.

“Maybe I can bump to a later one,” she hurried to add. “I just have to email a few people and—”

“Cass, where’s your phone?”

“My phone?” She pulled it from her jacket pocket. “Right here. Why?”

“Open your calendar.” He was fishing his own phone out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

“My what?”

“Open it. What’s in it?”

She looked over her calendar, the tapestry of color blocks organizing every day of her life. “Um, meetings, a conference call, another trip…”

“Answer me honestly, will someone die if you don’t do any of it for the next week?”

“You mean cancel—”

“Everything. Will the world keep turning if you cancel everything for a week?”

She looked at the color blocks with new eyes. Would the world keep turning? Of course it would. There would be some complaining, some shuffling, and of course, eternal catch up, but none of it was life and death. Was any of it
ever
life and death? No, she just made it seem that way in her driven, Type-A mind.

“Why?”

“Run away with me.”

“What?”

“Give me a week, Cass. Just me and you and the next week.”

“Where are we going to go?”

“Anywhere you want.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Anything we want to do. Everything. Nothing at all. Let’s go get lost.”

It was wild, impossible, crazy, and there was nothing on earth she’d rather do more. She hooked her arm around his neck and rose on tiptoe until her lips were nearly touching his. “Okay, let’s go get lost.”

#

“Another drink, señorita?”

Cassie glanced up from her book to see the bartender from the tiny seaside bar standing by her lounge chair. He was holding her empty margarita glass. Did she want another one? She stretched lazily.

“Absolutely,” she smiled up at him. “And bring one for my friend, too?”

“Of course.”

She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the blazing Mexican sun and saw Simon just coming out of the water. He was golden and dripping wet, sea water streaking down his arms and over the perfect planes of his chest. His board shorts were sitting low on his hips, revealing those delicious hipbone cuts. She wanted to trace those indents down the V they made to where they disappeared underneath his waistband. Really, she wanted to keep tracing, all the way down to where they met, to the beautiful parts of him that only she got to see. He made her mouth water.

He was chatting with a lanky teenager as the two of them pulled a windsurfing board out of the water. The boy had shown up on the beach earlier in the day and when Simon had shown an interest in what he was doing, the boy had offered to teach him. Simon had spent the better part of the afternoon doing more falling off the board than sailing it, but he was enjoying the hell out of himself while he did it.

The boy’s family had arrived, though, so they seemed to be wrapping it up. A little black-haired girl of about five was splashing in the shallows, impatiently waiting for her brother to take her out in the water with him. Simon shook hands with the boy and then crouched to say hello to his sister, who smiled bashfully at him from behind her brother’s legs. Seeing him with a child did something unfamiliar and powerful to her heart, and it wasn’t long before she was imagining him with a different little girl, maybe one with her hair and his eyes. The ease with which Simon seemed to be slotting into all her thoughts of the future still terrified her, but she was doing her best not to let the fear rule her. It was just so
easy
with him. Something so big shouldn’t be so simple. But maybe when it was the right person, it really was that simple.

He said goodbye to the boy and his family and strode up the beach towards her. Her eyes devoured every long, lithe stride he made, marveling in the easy way he moved with perfectly masculine grace. As he got closer, she saw his eyes roam over her, starting at her toes and moving up her newly-tanned legs, taking in her tiny bikini, pausing for a moment on her breasts, before his eyes met hers. She shifted slightly on her lounge chair, aroused already just watching him watch her.

He dropped onto the lounge beside hers, raking his fingers through his wet hair and sighing deeply with pleasure.

“That was bloody exhausting, but a load of fun. You sure you don’t want to give it a go?”

“I’ve been fine sipping margaritas, baking myself, and watching you, thanks.”

He reached for her hand and threaded their fingers together, bringing their hands to his mouth and pressing a kiss to hers.

“Happy?” he asked.

“Blissful.”

They’d run away together a week. Simon had rented a car, thrown their bags in the back and started driving down the coast. They stopped long enough to buy a bag of cheap beach clothes and then kept going until they found a small, sleepy town with a tiny resort that consisted of a semi-circle of little rustic cottages, a small pool, and a beachside bar. It was perfect.

For days they’d done nothing but swim and lie in the sun and eat three-hour dinners and have loads of stupendous sex. She’d never in her life been more relaxed or happier. They were flying home tomorrow morning and real life would crush back in. She’d have hell to pay for taking these four last-minute “personal days” to be sure, and so would Simon. Their usual work routines would ramp up immediately. Already she was booked for a two day trip to Montreal at the end of the week, and Simon had a trip the following week.

But somehow, despite her fears, she still felt optimistic. This could last. Maybe not this shimmering paradise they’d lazed in, but the important part, Simon, he would last. He’d already staked a claim to her schedule the moment her plane landed from Montreal, which meant they’d spend Friday night in his bed and Saturday…they’d wake up Saturday to that fantasy morning cooking breakfast in his kitchen, the one she imagined the first day they’d met. Back then, she’d guessed that no woman ever got to experience that scene of domestic coziness with Simon because he likely sent them packing before the sheets got cool. Now she knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t share his life that casually. Only when he really cared. He hadn’t been avoiding commitment, he’d simply been waiting for someone to matter enough. The idea that the “someone” was her was alternately thrilling and daunting. More than anything, she didn’t want to screw this up.

“Miguel told me his uncle owns a little restaurant in the village. I thought we could walk down there for dinner tonight.”

“Sounds great.”

“And there’s supposed to be a Rolling Stones cover band playing at the bar down the street. They’re sure to be dreadful but it could be fun.”

She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and turned to look at him. “If I’m with you, it’ll be fun.”

He grinned and kissed her hand again, this time lingering long enough for her to feel the heat of his mouth on her skin. She wanted him again already. They’d had sex just this morning, a long, slow, thorough coming together while their bodies were still warm and flushed with sleep. And she still wasn’t satisfied. She might never be.

The bartender reappeared and deposited two fresh margaritas on the table beside Cassie. She passed one to Simon and he took a deep appreciative sip. “Perfect,” he moaned.

She took a sip of hers and closed her eyes. “God, I don’t want this day to end.”

“It won’t, you know.”

She cracked one eye open and glanced at him. Simon was watching her and his expression had gone serious. Their joined hands rested on his chest.

“I see the wheels turning in your brain, Cass. You’re doing a pretty good job of hiding the fear but I know you’re still scared of this.”

“I haven’t—”

“Hush. You’re perfect, even if you have a terrible poker face.”

“I do not!”

“I see every thought to cross your mind as soon as you have it,” he chuckled.

She sighed. “Okay, fine. Yes, I’m still scared. I’ve spent a long time being defensive. It’s kind of my default position.”

“And you’ve got a right to that. Look, I won’t lie. This might get hard. With our lives, this is going to take a lot of work. But I want to do the work, because I think you’re worth it. I think this thing we’ve got is worth it.”

She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. God, when he said things like that, and looked at her with that single-minded intensity, she knew it would be so easy to fall head over heels in love with him. If she were being completely honest with herself, she was already halfway there. With a little time to let real life temper it, to build new memories with Simon that would overwrite the old ones from less worthy men, she had no doubt he’d be it for her.

“I think you’re worth it, too,” she whispered.

With a rakish grin, Simon tugged on her arm until she shifted off her lounge chair and onto his, until she was pressed up against him, her sun-warmed skin sliding along his, cooler and still wet from the ocean. He kissed her temple.

“So quit imagining worse case scenarios and enjoy this.”

She reached up to touch his face, running her fingers down his cheek and tracing his jaw. “I am.”

He cupped her face in his palm, and they lay there for a moment, looking into each other’s faces. In some ways, it was more intimate than any of the sex they’d had, because she couldn’t hide from him when he looked at her this way. She could only open herself up, her life and her heart, and invite him in. Because the magic wasn’t in the place or the fated circumstances that had thrown them together. The magic was the man. They could have landed in Mexico City as planned, caught their connection, bumped into each other again at the resort and the magic element would
still
be Simon. Which meant that even after these enchanted four days were over and their real lives crowded back in, the magic would continue because Simon would still be there.

“This has been the most amazing week of my life,” she told him honestly.

His eyes went soft with emotion. “Mine, too. And it’s just the start, Cass. This is just the beginning of our grand adventure.”

She smiled as she laid her head against his shoulder, knowing that for the first time in her life, the journey they were beginning was going to be far more important than their destination, wherever that might be.

Blame It On the Rum

#

“Just got tickets to the Knicks from a client for tomorrow night. You in?”

Jesse Fredericks groaned into his phone. “You’re killing me, Kyle. I can’t.”

On the other end, Kyle scoffed. “You
can’t
? You got something better to do than go to a Knicks game? Because if so, you’d better share it.”

“I’m going to a wedding. My friends from college, Marin and Wyatt. Actually, I’m on the plane now, waiting to take off. I’m gone all weekend.”

“A wedding? Man, that sucks. Anywhere interesting?”

“That part might not be so bad. It’s in Mexico, on the beach.”

“Excellent. Maybe you’ll get laid.”

Jesse laughed. “Doubtful. I gotta get there first, and apparently I’m on the same flight as the one girl in college I didn’t get along with. Let’s hope she’s not sitting near me. I might die of hypothermia.”

A throat cleared. She hadn’t said a word, but he’d know that voice, feel that unspoken disdain, anywhere. He flinched and looked toward the aisle. There she was, in all her cool, aloof beauty.

“Sydney. Surprise, surprise.”

Her lip curled slightly. “Save it. You’re in my seat.”

“Kyle, I gotta go,” he said into his phone. “Have fun at the Knicks.”

“Have fun chasing ass in Mexico!” Kyle shouted, loud enough that Sydney heard his words. She rolled her eyes.

“You’re in the window?”