One Look At You (18 page)

“No, let me do it. There’s a French press somewhere, and I’m sure you’ll like the way I make coffee.”

“In that case, I can’t wait.”

“This will take a couple of minutes, so why don’t you look around the house, if you wish?”

I don’t need to be told twice, so I stand up and walk to the sliding glass door so I can take in the view from the deck. The house is about a hundred feet from the beach and the view is fabulous. I can hear the foamy waves as they lightly crash into the white sand. I can feel the gentle breeze on my skin. There’s no one at the beach on this Saturday morning, though.
How odd.

“Spectacular, isn’t it?” I’m startled by his sudden presence. He’s carrying a tray with two cups of coffee and some cakes, which he carefully puts down on the low side table. He gestures for me to sit on one lounge chair while he lays on the one right next to mine.

“Thank you for bringing me here.”

“You’re welcome. Truth be told, I was just as eager to see this place again. And I wanted you by my side.” An unfamiliar emotion overcomes me
. Livie, he’s just being nice. Don’t read more into this than there is.

I sip from my cup and I see him waiting for me to say something.

“You were right. I like your coffee.”

“Like? That’s it? Don’t you want to heap more praise than that?” He pretends to be hurt by hanging his head low.

“A needy barista. Who would have thought?”

“Hmph! Remind me not to invite you to my next barbecue.”

“Seriously, what is it about men and their grills?” I roll my eyes.

“Women don’t get it. A backyard is a man’s domain. You can’t put a man in front of a chrome machine with state-of-the-art gizmos and not expect him to show off.”

“You may have a point.”

“Of course I do. The only thing I’m regretting right now is that I’m holed up in a bloody hotel.”

“Were you even thinking of moving into a house?”

“Of course, but things keep cropping up at work. I’ll probably look for a place after the ball. Things won’t be so hectic then.”
Perhaps he’s thinking of settling down in a beautiful home with his beautiful wife. So where does that leave me – the convenient bedmate?
I shake my head to ward off my dark thoughts.

I lay back in an effort to relax. The sun is intensely warm on my face, and I idly hope that the sunblock I put on earlier with my powder is enough to prevent burning. I steal a glance at him and see that he’s comfortably resting on the chair, his shirt completely unbuttoned to reveal his bronzed hard body. My throat feels dry and I turn away, mortified that I’m having an unseemly response to a man who’s not even minding me.
Damn him.

“I can see your nipples through your dress,” he says in a hoarse whisper.
So he is looking at me.

“Do you have to say things like that?” His words alone are enough to make me want to go over to him and do horribly wanton things.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“You know you do.”

“Why?”

“Just because.”

“You don’t think words can be part of foreplay?” He is no longer lying down. Instead, he chooses to be on the edge of his seat, as if ready to pounce.

I refuse to answer.

“Oh, you think actions speak louder than words?” He stands up and my body tenses with expectation.
Why does he have this effect on me?

He grabs my hand and pulls me up towards him, splaying my hands on his rock hard abs and chest. He touches my lips with his finger, slowly inserts it inside my mouth, then pulls it back, driving me mad with desire. I stop his movement by biting on it lightly and then sucking deeply. His sharp intake of breath tells me everything I want to know.
He wants me
.

His moistened finger leaves my mouth and plays with my nipple through the dress. He swirls it lightly until I take his hand and place it inside my neckline. He squeezes my aching breast and I moan. He bends to kiss me, his mouth rough and merciless. I am writhing with unfulfilled need.

The breeze touches my cheek and I become aware of where we are. “Someone will see,” I whisper into his ear.

“Maybe not. This is supposed to be a private beach.” His mouth descends on mine again. The urgency is too much to bear. Slowly, his lips travel all over my face, my neck, and between my breasts. His hands now mold me to his thighs and I quiver from the sensations. I want to be taken so badly that I can tell I’m wet and ready for him.

“I want you so much,” he says.
Then take me.

Instead, he does the complete opposite. He releases me and I feel painfully let down. I look questioningly at him, bereft of speech.

“Trust me, anticipation builds up the pleasure.”
Oh God. How can he look so calm and cool while I’m a bundle of nerves inside?

He kisses me lightly on the forehead. “Right now, we’re going to stroll around so you can get acquainted with this town. Perhaps you would like to freshen up? We’ll leave in half an hour.”

Still reluctantly, I walk towards the living room where our overnight bags are, pick up mine, and then ask, “Where can I…?” He gets the bag from my hand and gestures for me to follow him. He opens the door to a large bedroom. The queen-sized bed is covered with white overstuffed pillows and shams. The curtains are parted to reveal a floor to ceiling view of the ocean. Everything is immaculately elegant. I stare with admiration at the luxurious room.

“The bathroom is to your left. You have time for a bath, if you wish.”

“How about you? Don’t you need to freshen up, as well?”

“Don’t worry about me. There are two other bathrooms.” He leaves and I open my bag to find a change of clothes. I go to the bathroom to run a bath and my jaw drops to see an infinity-edged bathtub on marble flooring. This room, just like the rest of the house, obviously belongs on the pages of
Architectural Digest
.

I light some lavender candles on the dressing table. Once the tub is filled with water, I put some bath salts in and then carefully climb in. The water is just the right temperature and I feel myself totally relaxing as I lean back and close my eyes. If this bathroom had a rubber ducky, it would be perfect. I smile at my thoughts.

“A penny for your thoughts,” he says into my ear. I splash some water in his direction as I slip after being surprised by his deep male voice.

“How did I not see or hear you come in?”

“You were too busy with your thoughts. So, I guess, you took my suggestion to heart. Your bath looks very inviting. I may just join you.”

“You may get in just as soon as I get out,” I say with a teasing smile.

“It’s just as well. We’ll never get out of this room if I did join you.”

“You’re not that irresistible, you know,” I chide him.

“No, but you are,” he says as he sweeps over my body with his eyes. I blush.

“If you leave me in peace, Mr. Avery, I promise I’ll be out in five minutes.”

“Don’t you like having an audience?”

“Certainly not. Now, please leave.”

“Okay. I’ll be on the deck, my sweet. Holler, if you want me to tear off my clothes and join you.”

“Ha. Ha. Please go.” Just as soon as he leaves, I get out of the tub and dry myself with one of the soft, thick bath towels from the bar. I look through my overnight bag and see a pair of white shorts and a mint green crop top. I decide on sneakers since we seem to be going for a long walk. In a little over five minutes, I join him on the deck.

“I’m ready.”

He turns around and gives me a slow once-over. “No purse? Not even a phone? You’re very low maintenance, aren’t you?”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not at all. It’s a very good thing.” He flashes a grin and I am transfixed by his handsome face.
This man is so hot I can feel my nerves tingle when I’m next to him
.

We walk hand-in-hand out the front door and trudge down the narrow road. After half a mile or so, we start to see some cottages. Tony says, “Prepare to step into a fairy tale.” I look more closely and see what he means. The houses are like gingerbread cottages surrounded by the most lush and colorful gardens. The endearing quaintness of it all makes me feel like I’m in another time in history.

“This is my favorite section of Carmel,” Tony says as he points out what seems to be a grouping of houses. “In the 1920s, an investor asked the city council to develop this tract of land according to an English shared garden plan. The five houses are clustered with lots of garden space between them, like in a park. All five houses were designed by the same man – Hugh Comstock.”

“And I guess you feel very English when you visit these parts?”

“Very,” he says drily. “Though everyone always seems to forget I’m only half-English.”

“Well, you are an Avery.”

“I don’t know what that means, Livie. People have preconceived notions about me and how I grew up just because my father is a famous man.”

“They wouldn’t be too far wrong.”

“No, but it does make me a little resentful that people make half-assed judgments.”

I look at him, concerned that I may have touched a nerve. “Ahh, poor little rich boy, you must have had such a terrible childhood.” I put my hands to my eyes and pretend to cry. He looks at me and lets out a guffaw. I sigh, thankful that my little injection of humor was not lost on him.

“Putting me in my place, Olivia Harris? You’ll pay dearly… later.” Well, I have been warned, and now this ‘can’t wait, must have it now’ feeling is brewing inside of me.

“Can we go in?” I’m dying to look at the architectural details and the landscaping.

“It’s private property so, no, we can’t. But we can go around the perimeter and you’ll have a closer look.”

We walk around slowly and I take note of how beautiful and unique each house is. Each of the houses is aptly named. They are built in different styles, but share some similarities like the stone chimneys and multi-paned windows. I marvel at some of the enchanting features. ‘Fables’ has a polygonal hipped roof. ‘Doll House’ has the cutest name plate. Then there’s ‘Birthday House’ with its antique wooden and bronze bench. Sadly, we can’t see much of the other two cottages. The shrubbery and the abundance of flowers in every color are a magical touch to the little subdivision. I smile at the thought that the homeowners must live lives touched by a bit of pixie dust.

“Do you suppose the people who live there live happily ever after?” I ask like a child.

“If only that were true.”

We continue our stroll, ending up on the busy Ocean Avenue, the main avenue for downtown Carmel. A number of famous stores line the stone-paved alleyways. The Carmel Plaza has three levels of elegant clothing and jewelry stores. But we find ourselves visiting the many art galleries which house some really interesting paintings and sculptures. Many artists call this town home, drawn to the breathtaking panoramic vista of the ocean.

Soon, we’re inside the Rourke Gallery, admiring a painting of the beach at dusk.

“Welcome to our gallery,” a lady in her sixties says to us with a welcoming smile. “Are you interested in one of the pieces as a present for your lovely wife?”

“I’m not…” I start to say, but Tony interrupts me before I can finish.

“As a matter of fact, we are looking at this painting. It’s perfect. Can you have it delivered?” he says it so casually, without even asking for the price.

“Certainly, come right this way. You can give me the address and I’ll see to it that it’s properly packed and shipped to you.”

After Tony finishes scribbling the address, she looks up and says, “Avery? Why, your father bought a number of my pieces when I was just starting my career. They were shipped to England.”

Tony frowns, as if deep in thought. “That’s why I had a feeling of déjà vu when I walked into your gallery. Yes, I do believe I’ve seen one of your paintings in my father’s study.”

“I didn’t know that you and your wife had permanently settled here. I’m very happy for you. Carmel will be a great place to raise your children.” I look down at my feet, not knowing how to react.

“No, we’re just visiting. As you say, it’s a beautiful town. If you’re delivering it soon, you may leave it at the deck. We’ll be doing a little more touring before we get back home.” He takes out his wallet and casually hands her a credit card. After writing out the invoice and processing the payment, she hands it back to him.

“Thank you. It was nice meeting you both, Mr. and Mrs. Avery,” she says formally, as she shakes our hands.

“Tony and Livie,” Tony casually says.

“Rhonda.”

I say nothing as we leave her store, but I feel an enormous sense of relief. I didn’t know how to act back there, and the fact that she thought we were together just made it all real for me again. He’s married. But not to me. I’m the assistant cum lover – nothing more.

I’m sipping my iced water while waiting for our order to arrive. Tony and I are seated at the patio of Carmel’s famous seafood restaurant – Fish Queen. It’s only six, but every table is occupied and there are a number of diners waiting in line.

“You’ve been very quiet since we left the gallery. Are you okay?”

“Of course. I’m just a little tired.”
Lie. Lie. Lie.

He gives me a speculative look, but I do my best to get out of my dark mood. It would be a lot more humiliating to let him know why.
You have no right, Livie. Absolutely none
.

“What do you think I should order?” I’m a little out of my element, so I’d rather have him decide.

“If you want something light, let’s just order the bouillabaisse and have oysters for an appetizer.”

“Oysters? I’ve never had them.”

“You’ll love them,” he assures me with confidence.

The server, as if on cue, appears to take our order, and Tony takes charge. A few minutes after, the server is back, this time with a bottle of chilled chardonnay and two glasses. Tony fills up the glasses midway and then raises his glass. “To Carmel and a weekend of memories.”

I smile weakly, not sure what to make of his toast. I clink his glass in response. Cherish the memories. That’s all that will remain.