Bare In Bermuda (11 page)

Why her mother couldn't just tell her father to buy flowers, or better yet, just go out and get them herself, made her mother seem weak in her eyes. But as she grew older and wiser, it was obvious who really was in charge in the Hirsch household. Henna didn't understand their dynamic and had taken efforts not to involve herself in a relationship that even remotely resembled her parents’. If she wanted flowers, she went out and bought them herself.

“You think this is a bad thing?”

Every few moments, a breeze blew and with it came a floral scent that was tantalizingly familiar. The island was perfumed with it, and every breath she'd taken since arriving had been either full of that bouquet or the spicy lime and vanilla scent of Eduardo.

She paused for a moment to find the honest answer to Eduardo's question. “I used to,” she said. “It used to really annoy me that my mother took so much pride in caring for her home and her family and didn't have a career. Now...” She shrugged. “I don't know. I guess I understand why she chose to follow that path. My sister is just like her. It's her dream to get married, have babies, and buy throw pillows. It's just not very liberated.”

Her attention was diverted to the beach beyond the terrace where a group of young people laughed loudly and made a great deal of effort to be the center of their group’s attention. Eden would have fit in well with the group. Henna wouldn't have. Not even when she was their age. Loud, energetic, attention-seeking, pure fun had never really had a place in her plans.

“I thought women’s liberation enabled women to be who and what they wanted to be, and not who society told them they had to be,” Eduardo said. “If a woman chooses to be a wife and a mother, who are you to scorn her for that choice? You have chosen your career over having a family. I don't judge you for this even though I find it an odd choice.”

The evening that had started out so perfectly was going the way most dates she went on tended to go. Henna lacked skill at salvaging a date that had started to turn on her. But she could always try. “Just so we're clear, I didn't choose a career over a family. That's just how it worked out. I never met the right person at the right time. I would have liked to have gotten married, had a family, but it just didn't happen.” She shifted slightly in her chair. “But I haven't given up. I think I have a lot to offer.”

Not bad. Instead of telling him off for assuming she'd made an erroneous choice, she was polite and not argumentative.

“My mother, who is a very wise woman as long as she's not trying to manage my life, says that a person meets the right person a dozen times and that it is the right time a dozen times, but it is only very rarely that we find the right person at the right time. This is where destiny comes into to play.” He squeezed her hand then leaned over to kiss her. “I've upset you. I'm sorry.”

“I'm not really upset. I've just had a very rocky day, and I'd prefer to concentrate on the positive rather than dwell on a past I can't change.” She silently congratulated herself on how very pleasant she was. In the real world of work and mortgage payments, she would have been fuming. In Bermuda, life was different. When the woman selling flowers glided past their table, Eduardo stopped her and purchased a small peace offering.

He offered her the flowers and an apology. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed you were single and childless by choice. I don't know enough about you to make assumptions. I just feel as if I already know you so well even when I don't.” That he felt a need to apologize revealed another level of his charm. He bought flowers and could admit he'd made a mistake rather than accusing her of being hypersensitive.

She took the flowers and smiled. “You're forgiven.” She lifted her bouquet and the scent in filled her nose. “What is that?” She held the bouquet to him and watched as he inhaled deeply.

“Lily.”

“It's very nice. Thank you.”

“You are beautiful and desirable, and I can't imagine you don't have a line of men waiting for a chance to get to know you.”

“Or maybe I do and destiny has just been keeping me conveniently available until you came around.” It was well within her right to tease him about destiny. “There you have it. You're divorced and I'm single. Destiny.”

His fingers wrapped around hers. “You assumed I was divorced, but I'm a widower,” he said.

“Uhh...” Henna wasn't sure how to respond to that. Part of her wanted to say Great! Fantastic! The other part of her knew that would be very inappropriate. She was happy he was single. Just not pleased with how he became single.

Eduardo reached across the table and took her hand. “It's fine. I know it's awkward for you to hear that. I didn't correct you because I hate that look people get in their eyes when I tell them the truth. Like they're supposed to pity me. I'm tired of being pitied. I want to get on with my life.”

Yet another thing they had in common. She wanted to reach across the table and hug him. Instead, she smiled and squeezed his hand. “I hate that look. I know what you mean. That oh poor you look. I get that look a lot, especially from women with babies. It really annoys me. Try being an obstetrician and a single woman in her late thirties. I get the pity look all the time. That's rough.”

Eduardo nodded and grinned. “You understand. My wife Pilar died two years ago. And today...” He looked at their joint hands. “Today, I too, had a very bad start. I rushed out of my hotel in Miami, and I left my wedding band in the bathroom. Perhaps it was destiny telling me to take it off. I know what I am talking about when I tell you that not everything in life can be planned for. Pilar was forty-two when she died. It was not in the plan.”

“I guess you might be right,” she said, forced to concede to his point. “Not everything can be planned for.”

“I loved my wife very much, and I will always miss her, but I am still alive and life does go on.” He squeezed her hand before releasing it and reaching for the wine bottle to fill their glasses. “Like you, I haven't given up. I also think I have a lot to offer. I know for me this is the right time.”

His intense stare and words didn't intimidate her as it might have coming from another man. The normal reflex to flee from a man who purposefully discussed anything more intense than the weather or the latest must read novel on a first date didn't send her running. They'd skipped the first few awkward dates and landed in a place where the sex was phenomenal and the conversation had substance. She was in uncharted water. Not even with Simon had she gotten this far into a relationship. He raised a hand and called over the waitress to order a second bottle of wine. How did he do that without seeming like a jerk? Hopefully, it was a learned skill and another aspect of his multifaceted charm.

“I think I'd like your mother. She sounds really smart, and I happen to agree with her. It is not a crime to refuse to settle.”

“Speaking for myself, I'm very happy you didn't. Otherwise, we wouldn't be enjoying each other’s company. So tell me about yourself. I want to know everything and not just what I'm assuming.”

Happy to move on in the conversation, Henna charged on, “I'm originally from New York, but I've been living in San Francisco for nearly fourteen years now. My mother is a homemaker, my father works for the police department, my brother works for the CIA, and my sister is....” she pauses for a moment. Eden. How to describe Eden. “Getting married.”

“Would this be your slutty sister who has carnal knowledge of your best friend Simon, forever closing the door on any future chance of developing a romantic relationship with him?”

“You do pay attention. I probably shouldn't have called her slutty. That was a bit unfair. I will say that she'd had a massive crush on Simon since she was about ten. Getting him in the sack, or more accurately on his back in my mother's game room, was more the fulfillment of a teenager's desire than it was anything else. Unfortunately, Simon is a thirty-five year old man who noticed my sister wasn't a child anymore a few years back.”

Eduardo refilled her glass then hers. “I'm not sure I want to know all of this,” he said with a grin.

“Anyhow, what was a quick and meaningless fling for my sister, pretty well crushed Simon. He was ready to leave his girlfriend for my sister. Needless to say, my loyalties are a bit split at the moment. I love my sister, but Simon is like a brother and I love him, too. This whole thing between them pretty well drove him to actually set a date with his girlfriend.”

What had gotten in to her? A few hours back, she didn't want Eduardo to know her full name. There she was, sitting across the table from him delving into personal matters as if he were her primary confidant.

“Honestly, I'm not dealing very well with my sister getting married. I always figured I'd get married before her.” She looked across the table at Eduardo who was polite enough not to appear bored. “I'm sorry. I'm monopolizing the conversation. Tell me about yourself.” She picked up her wineglass and brought it to her lips.

Before he could answer the waitress arrived with four plates of calorie-injected, butter-laced, and wine-doused French Caribbean fusion cuisine. “I don't know where to start. Are we sharing? How do we do this? Should we get another plate?”

“Henna,” Eduardo said her name.

“What?” A large lobster ravioli was forked between her teeth.

“Relax. It's just dinner. We've shared a fair amount as it is. I think we can share a few plates.”

“Oh, my god,” she sighed. “That's incredible.” She picked up her fork and knife and speared a ravioli. “Try.”

Eduardo took the ravioli and nodded. “That's nice.”

She reached for the steak with her fork and knife. “I never eat red meat or sugar. I especially never eat red meat covered in butter, cream, and wine, but I think I just might have to make an exception.”

“Religious reasons?”

“God no,” she said. “More like thigh and rear end reasons. I'm not religious at all, but I really can be pretty neurotic about the size of my ass.”

“You have a phenomenal ass,” he said.

“Thank you.” She winked at him. “You're not so bad yourself. I think there may be dessert in our future. I have no intention of choosing between the cheesecake and the crème brulee. You've unleashed a monster. One that likes food, booze, sex, and you. Be prepared to deal with the consequences. Or at least an hour of my chasing you around on the tennis court tomorrow. Or some incredibly vigorous sex when we get back to the room tonight. Or both.”

“I'm pretty tough,” he said. “I think I can handle both.”

“Tell me more about you.”

“I am Colombian,” he said. “From Colombia.”

She could hear her father telling her very clearly that Colombia had two main exports and both were highly addictive. She was fairly certain Eduardo was an honest man, but that didn't preclude her from having a little fun. He'd already been warned. Fun and playful Henna had been unleashed.

“Really?” Her eyebrows twitched up. “Are you a drug czar? Like Pablo Escobar or Manuel Noriega? He was Colombian, wasn't he?”

His face became a battleground between expressions of shock and horror. “Noriega was Panamanian and a criminal. I am not a drug czar.”

“Part of the cartel? Let's be honest. You lay down a fair amount of cash on clothes from what I've seen, and you were ready to pay top dollar for what I've given you for free. Not that I'm judging. I'm just curious.”

“What— I—”he stared at her.

Henna couldn't help but to feel pleased with herself as she swallowed more steak. “You look both annoyed and pretty darn insulted.”

“That's because I am.” His eyes had darkened and his mouth slashed a firm line across his face.

“Good,” she said. “We're even for the prostitute thing. You do believe me now, right?”

Eduardo stared at her for a moment then laughed. “Henna...” He took her hand and lifted it to her lips then turned her hand and brought her inner wrist to his mouth for a kiss. His lips lingered for a moment as her pulse thumped beneath his light touch. “I deserved that. I'm sorry I insulted you earlier. We are even.”

“So what do you really do?”

“I told you. I'm a farmer. I have a coffee plantation in the Andean highlands, which has been in my family for two hundred years. I am a widower, as you know, and I have two grown children. What are you doing in Bermuda? Other than fulfilling the fantasies of lonely widowers?”

The sommelier arrived with the second bottle of wine and uncorked it. “I'm here for my sister's wedding. She's marrying some guy she's only known for three months. Don't get me wrong, I love my sister and he's seems very nice from what I know so far, but come on...” She rolled her eyes as she often did when talking about Eden's wedding. “Everyone loves my sister, and he just seems crazy about her. Which, by the way, crazy is the word of the day when it comes to the wedding. But it's just like my sister to do something like this.”

Eduardo picked up the wine bottle and filled their glasses as a smile spread across his face. “Tell me more about your sister. And this incredibly charming, handsome, and intelligent young Colombian who is probably not the son of a drug czar, she's marrying.” It was almost like he was laughing at her, but she wasn't in on the joke.

The little Henna in her head that tried to give her advice and tips she usually ignored in favor of common sense, hummed and hooted at her. The problem with that little voice was that she'd ignored it so many times she barely heard it anymore. She'd listened to it earlier when it told her to be a vixen, but at that moment, she didn't pay much attention to what it was trying to say. “You'd love my sister. The two of you could talk about destiny for hours.”

“I imagine we could. I suspect she's also a deadly tennis player and speaks excellent Spanish. So, tennis tomorrow?”

“Yes,” she said. “Especially after dessert. But I'm more of a golfer. Please no jokes about doctors who play golf. My father has already made every joke that can be made. But let me tell you about Eden. She's passionate, spontaneous, the life of every party, never plans anything, and wholly believes in destiny. She moved to Italy because a psychic told our Aunt Midge that Eden would meet the love of her life at the Trevi Fountain. And by god she did. Right at the Trevi Fountain.” She slapped her hand on the table for emphasis. “Only Eden! There's a nauseatingly romantic tale that involves a broken heel, a group of Japanese tourists―”