Bare In Bermuda (15 page)

She exhaled the deep breath she’d held. “That was…” She nodded as her lips pressed together. “That was fantastic.”

He kissed her cheek and slid his cock from her thrumming pussy. “You make my heart beat and my head spin.”

“Did you muss my hair?” She pulled down her dress and smoothed it around her hips.

“Yes. You look like you’ve just had an incredible fuck and are well satisfied.” He picked up the shirt already laid out on the bed. Pale blue. Perfect with the caramel linen suit he slipped on.

“Who dresses you?” She looked in the mirror and sighed. Her curls were tousled and messy. Either she'd have to do a quick fix or undergo scrutiny from both her mother and aunt.

“I’ve been dressing myself since I was five years old.”

She slipped on her shoes as she wondered if he was purposefully being obtuse or if there was a small but conquerable communication breakdown. “Who picks out your clothes?”

“I pick out my own clothes. What am I? An infant?”

“Who buys your clothes?”

“Ah! I pay a very nice, albeit somewhat intense woman living in Los Angeles, to shop for me.” All it took was a comb through his hair and instantly he was perfect. How was it possible men improved with age and women just got older?

“You have a stylist?” What kind of man had a stylist on his payroll?

“Yes,” he said. “That’s what she calls herself.”

“How in god’s name did you end up with a stylist?”

“My goddaughter is one of her clients. Esmeralda, bless her, was worried I’d be wearing rags without Pilar to shop for me. I will not let my mother and daughter pick out my clothes. So, Michelle shops for me. Considering how much time I save, she’s worth every penny.”

“Nice. She has excellent taste.” How much money did Eduardo have? If she had to add rich on top of all of his other qualities, she might just start believing in destiny. Not that she ever considered herself the type to go for a man just because he had money. She always thought it would be a nice bonus to be with a man who was perhaps a bit more than solvent.

“Most of the time.”

She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “I'm going. I need to fix my hair and put on some panties.” She picked up her card from the desk. “I'll meet you on the terrace.”

He grabbed her hand before she was out of range. “Don't bother with the panties.” He pulled her close for a final kiss. “And try to keep a chair free next to you.”

“Why? Are you going to try to grab my thigh during brunch?”

“I would like to have that option available in case an opportunity arises.”

“Better be careful my father doesn't catch you.” She gave him a cheeky wink. “In fact, let's make sure my father doesn't catch you. He's a bit scary.”

“I'm a bit scary, too.”

“He's a cop.”

“I know who your father is. What do you think? My son tells me he's getting married after knowing someone for two months and I'm not going to make inquiries? We are wealthy people. I have to be careful. I will say when I found out your brother worked for the CIA, I did hesitate for moment and then double checked all of my affairs were in proper order.”

She hesitated for a moment before asking, “You...?”

Eduardo stared at her, daring her to ask the question she wanted to ask.

“So...” She smiled at him. “I'm going to go and fix my hair, grab my phone, and get to the terrace all without wearing panties.” She moved to the door.

“Henna.” He stopped her before she left. “I don't do anything illegal. There is a large gray area in how business is done in Colombia, and I often operate in that place, but I never do anything illegal or immoral. Is that what you want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Now you know. I'll see you on the terrace.”

Henna left the room after checking the hallway for family, then dashed across the intervening space in two jumps. Inside her room, she pulled her hair up and checked her phone. Three missed calls from Simon and more texts about the hot water.

She left her room and walked down the hallway to the elevator as she read his increasingly perturbed messages about wanting hot water then the final one after he'd figured out he just needed to turn the boiler back on.

“Unreal,” she muttered. It was a little after seven in the morning in San Francisco. Simon would probably be asleep. So instead of calling his cellphone, she called her house phone and let it ring until he answered.

“Hello?” Simon grumbled after ten rings.

“Good morning sunshine!” she chirped. She pressed the elevator button and waited. “Did precious get his hot water?”

“What do you want?” The sound of him flopping onto a mattress came over the line.

The doors to the elevator opened and she stepped on. “Guess what I did?”

“Uhh...you had sex with a random stranger in the airplane bathroom.”

“Yes!”

“No! You are such a liar. I don’t believe you.”

“I did.”

“Liar.”

“I swear to god, I did.”

Silence from the other end. “I going to think about this. As a rule, you don't lie to me and certainly you never lie about your sexual conquests, few and far between as they are.” He mumbled for a moment. “Okay. Let's assume I believe you. Please tell me it was an airline pilot? Because that would be so awesome.”

“Oh, it gets even better. You remember the
Caballero Caliente
?”

“Yes?”

“Uh-huh.” She smiled and nodded at no one in particular.

“No! You are such a liar.”

“Am not. And it gets better.”

“It's can't. If this were true, which it is not, it could not get better.”

“The
Caballero Caliente
is Eden's future father-in-law.”

“You cannot make this shit up. Seriously. You are not that creative. Tell me you are not bullshitting me.”

“I am not bullshitting you. His name is Eduardo. He's Romeo's father.” She stepped out onto the terrace and into the sun. Her family was easy to spot at a pair of round tables that had been butted together. “We just had the best stand-up quickie I've ever had, and now I have to have brunch with him and my family while pretending I have no idea who he is. And I'm not wearing any panties.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my Henna?”

“I really don't know what has gotten into me, but I like it. I've got to run.”

“You've made my day. Call me when you have an update.”

“Oh, I will.” After a quick goodbye, she ended the call and dropped her phone into her bag.”

Henna joined her family under an umbrella on a terrace overlooking the azure blue waters of the bay. She breathed in a double lungful of the hibiscus-scented air and tried to exhale all her stress. Her sister, at least, had the good sense to get married in paradise.

Her mother looked at her watch. “What happened to you? It's already well past eleven. I hope they're not those kind of people who show up two hours late for everything. Do you remember that wedding we went to? The bride was three hours late? And apparently this was normal, and we were just supposed to be okay with it because she was Latin? I'll never forget that one.”

Henna ignored her mother as she sat down next to her father, making certain there was an empty seat next to her.

“How is my princess?” Her father gave her a bear hug. “Did I catch you with a fella in your room? You sounded like you were in a bit of a scramble to get me off the phone.”

“Daddy,” she sighed. “Please.” How did he know? How? He always knew. Mel Hirsch, Chief of Police for the entire New York City Police Department, possessed an almost supernatural capacity to know exactly what his children were thinking and doing no matter where in the world they might be in relation to him. At least, that was what he had let Henna and her siblings believe. She had yet to find a reason to believe his claims were overstated.

As her father stared at her, panic grabbed her like an anaconda, taking hold of an unsuspecting puppy. He’d know. Her father would know. The second Eduardo arrived, Mel would know that the father of the groom had carnal knowledge of his oldest and most reliable child. The one he’d last suspect of picking up a stranger and doing so many delightfully naughty things with him. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table like the safety bar on a rollercoaster while she dreaded what was coming around the next corner.

“Honestly, Mel. Stop teasing her,” Aunt Midge said, sitting down. “If Henna wants to have a man in her room, it’s really none of our beeswax.”

“And I just don’t want to know.” Her mother waved the conversation away with a hand. “Henna move over there. That way we're not seated next to each other and we can mingle with the Salazar's.”

“Somebody was in your room,” her father said. “Daddy knows.” He put his finger to his nose, tapped it, and then pointed at her.

Henna involuntarily sniffed at herself. Did her father’s awesome olfactory senses somehow detect the scent of man and sex on her? If he did, then she would really need a lot of therapy. For once, she was happy to have one of her mother's somewhat arbitrary demands work in her favor. She got up and moved around the table next to Aunt Midge and an empty chair.

“Seriously, you need to get laid,” her brother Leo said. “You are the most tightly wound person I have ever met. I will never forget when I stayed with you and you practically chased me out of the bathroom after I showered just so you could wipe down the mirror before it got streaky. Or that calendar you have in the kitchen. You're single, and yet you still menu plan like you have a family of ten. Or my personal favorite, the couch no one can sit on. Surreal.”

“Just because you live like an insane person who hoards motorcycle magazines and empty soda cans, doesn’t mean I’m sexually repressed. You’re a grown man, and your mother does your laundry for you.”

Her mother cleared her throat and raised two hands. One in each of their faces. “Leopold. Leave your sister alone. Just because she has to have everything just so isn't a crime. Although, I am concerned about the dress I found on the ground and your unpacked suitcase. I'll just assume it was a fluke. Normally, Henna is very together. She gets that from me. Probably a quality you should look for in the young ladies,” her mother crooked her fingers in a dramatic pair of air quotes, “you spend your time with rather than basing a young woman’s value on how much her bottom resembles Jennifer Lopez’s. You might not be a thirty year old man living ankle deep in girly magazines and eating frozen dinners.”

Her mother turned slightly as she lowered her hands to the table. “Henna. Leave your brother alone. He’s very busy, and I don’t mind popping his things into the machine when he’s over for supper. Perhaps if you weren’t so picky, you wouldn’t be edging up on your thirty-seventh birthday, wondering why you can’t seem to find Mr. Absolutely, Totally, and Completely Right. Simon is a doll. He’s sweet, handsome, charming, well-educated, a phenomenal bridge player, and a doctor. If he’s not good enough for you, then I don’t know who possibly could be. No man is perfect. Look at Daddy.”

Her mother turned slightly to Henna’s father who sat next to her. Her hand squeezed his for a brief moment before she turned back to her children. “Do you think this happened overnight? No. It took years of work to get him just the way I like him. Lower the bar. Then raise it again.” To make her point, her mother used her hands and arms. With a final sweep of her hands, she smiled contentedly at her two oldest. “Now that we have that sorted…” She looked at her husband, who, after nearly forty years of marriage, was just the way she wanted him. “Have you spoken to Eden?”

“Called her room,” her father said. “Talked to Romeo. Who the hell names their kid Romeo?”

“I think it's pronounced Ro-may-oh,” Henna said.

No matter how much she liked to be prepared for every possibility in life, there was no predicting what would happen when Eduardo arrived. If he walked up to her and planted a big kiss on her lips, she wouldn't be angry. He'd actually be doing her a favor. Her family would no longer question her ability to be spontaneous.

“Whatever,” her father grumbled. “You know they have two main exports the Colombians—”

“And he's off again,” Aunt Midge threw her arms up in the air. “Honestly, Mel, you know who you sound like?”

“If you say I sound like dad, I'm done talking to you,” Mel said to his sister.

“You sound like dad,” Midge said with a finger pointed at her brother.

“Enough,” Henna’s mother said, raising her hand. “There's Eden and Ro-may-oh.”

All heads turned in the direction her mother pointed. Eden walked hand in hand with a man born to wear the name Romeo. Henna could see the family resemblance between him and Eduardo. His coloring was slightly different, but the facial features were similar. In fact, they were the same. Younger perhaps, but then again, she preferred Eduardo's maturity.

“He's a dreamboat,” Aunt Midge muttered from the corner of her mouth. “Judith was right. Look at the sparkler Eden has on her hand. That's no fake.”

“Be quiet.” Henna snickered quietly.

“Well, if it isn't the spontaneous bride,” Aunt Midge said, embracing Eden. “You must be Romeo.”

“How do you do?” Romeo asked warmly. “I am so very pleased you were able to come and share our joy.”

“Oh, do sit down before you make me cry,” her mother said. “So tell me about yourself.”

“That's my line.” Her father chuckled. “So tell me about yourself?”

Romeo took his grilling with style and answered each question. “My family.” Romeo rose partially out of his chair and waved his family over.

Henna turned her head, and her gaze landed on a leggy brunette with the body of a swimsuit model and the face of a goddess who stood next to Eduardo. “My sister Gloria and my father Eduardo.” Next to the two was an older couple. The man was distinguished and the woman, handsome. “My grandmother Inez, and my grandfather, Enrique.” Next to them was a man who could only be Eduardo's brother. “My uncle, Father Paulo.”

Everyone nodded politely and smiled a lot as people found their seats. Eduardo sat next to her in the chair she'd kept open for him.

“Mel Hirsch,” her father, the cop, said across the table to Eduardo. Henna half expected her father to flash his badge. “What line of work are you in?”