Waking Up with the Boss (8 page)

“Why?” she asked, prodding him to finish the tale.

“Because they'll turn you into what they are, and you'll live in the water, becoming one of them.”

She sighed, a bit dreamily. “Wouldn't it be cool if they were real, if you could really be transformed?”

“I went to Louisiana once with my parents, and when we visited the bayou, where my dad's ancestors were originally from, I kept wondering if the mermaids were there, watching us from below the water.”

“I'll bet they were.”

“I would've had to fall into the water to know for sure.”

She moved closer to him. “I'm glad that you didn't or you wouldn't be here with me now.”

He moved closer, as well. “Then I'm glad, too.”

In the next bout of silence, they gazed at each other as if they were the only two people on the island. At the moment, that was how it felt.

They finished their food, taking their final bites and putting their plates aside. For dessert, the guests would be making their own s'mores, and Jake was looking forward to watching Carol lick the chocolate and marshmallow off her lips.

“I think we should give her a name,” she said.

“What?” He didn't have a clue what she was talking about. He was still thinking about her lips.

“The mermaid,” she told him. “The one we made. She needs an identity before she gets washed away. Just to make her seem more real.”

“Then you can choose one.”

“It should probably be a French name since this area has so many French influences.” She turned her attention to the sea. “Do you know how to say
ocean
in French?”

“It's
océan
.” He pronounced it o-say-AHN. To the best of his knowledge, that was right. He wasn't an expert on the language, but he'd dated a French actress for a few whirlwind months. “I think that's actually a woman's name, too.”

“Then it's perfect. She'll be Océan.”

He smiled. “It definitely works.”

“Yes, it does. When she's washed into the sea, she'll be dissolving into her name.”

“What's the origin of your name?” This woman who was fueling his fantasies, he thought. His temporary lover.

“It's a song or a hymn.”

“Oh, of course. That makes sense.” He analyzed his own name. “Jacob means
supplanter
because, in the Bible, Jacob was born holding his twin brother's heel.”

“I've never heard of that word.”

“A supplanter takes the place of someone or something else.”

“Really? Hmm. Who are you taking over for?”

“How about the kinds of guys you normally date?” He touched her cheek, skimming his finger across her skin.

Her breathing grew quiet. “That's a clever analogy. With how different you are from them.”

He thought about how she sewed pieces of material together to document her life. “Are you going to make a quilt to mark this weekend?”

Her lashes fluttered. “Do you think I should?”

He nodded. “You can use fabrics with beachy things on them. An island, a mermaid, a sandcastle.”

“What should I use to represent us?” she asked.

He trailed his hand down, following the line of her collarbone. “You could steal the sheets off my bed and cut them into little squares.”

“Jake.”
She admonished him, but she shivered from his touch, too. “I'll figure something else out.”

“Does that mean you're going to make the quilt?”

“I don't know.” She seemed to be considering the idea, contemplating the design. “Maybe.”

“You could give it to me as a gift.”

“Really? You'd want it?”

“Sure.” He toyed with the mesh on her cover-up, poking at the holes. “It can be a part of our secret after we get home. Something for us to remember being together.”

She leaned toward him. “Wouldn't it be better for us to try to forget?”

In lieu of a response, he kissed her. For now, he didn't want to forget. She reacted favorably, her lips warm and pliable against his. After they separated, they sat back to watch the fire.

Jake glanced over and saw that the ingredients for the s'mores were being passed around. “Are you ready for dessert?”

She nodded, and soon they were engaged in making the sticky treats. He took the liberty of watching her eat hers, just as he'd wanted to do.

“Everyone is supposed to go crabbing later,” he said. “If they want to,” he added. No one had to do anything that didn't appeal to them.

“Tonight?” She didn't just lick the goo from her lips. She licked it from her fingers, too. “I thought we'd be doing that tomorrow morning on a boat.”

“No. This is a nighttime activity. They're giant land crabs, so we'll be searching for them, going into the brush, along the inland trails, armed with flashlights. But we have to be quick and quiet, so we'll be splitting into separate groups once everyone gets the gist of it. So, do you want to join in?”

She nodded. “I'll give it a try. But it sounds sort of scary, being out there in the dark.”

“I promise I'll protect you.” He watched while she made herself another s'more. “We'll have to put on some warmer clothes. They'll be giving us gloves and buckets and whatever else we'll need. The caretakers of the house are going to be our guides.”

“That's good.” She focused on her task, placing her marshmallows just so. “But I'm going to stay close to you, for sure.”

“That's not a problem.” He wanted to keep her as close as possible. “I don't know how many we'll catch, but the island is supposed to be filled with them this time of year. The chef is going to incorporate our catch into the breakfast menu.”

“I wish tomorrow wasn't our last day.”

“Me, too.” They would be flying out, just before sunset, and going back to their regular lives. But for now, they were still here, immersed in the romance that had become their affair.

Eight

T
his was it, Carol thought as she stood on her veranda, breathing in the tropical air. Soon, she and Jake would be leaving the Caribbean.

Already feeling nostalgic, she smiled, remembering last night's crabbing expedition. She'd squealed like a child when she'd nabbed her first giant blue crustacean. Jake had been right by her side, as promised, making the experience sweet and fun and romantic. Nonetheless, hunting and gathering wasn't her forte.

Eating was, though. She'd enjoyed the crab-stuffed crepes they'd had for breakfast. For lunch, they'd had French cuisine, served in the dining room, where everyone had gathered for their final meal, talking and laughing, before they'd parted ways.

Some guests were already gone by now and others, like Carol and Jake, were preparing to depart.

She returned to her room, where her suitcase sat, carefully packed. After Jake finished jamming his belongings into his, they would head out for the helipad. When they got to the other island where they'd originally landed, they would board the jet that would take them home.

She checked on Jake to see how he was coming along and found him looking as handsome as ever, dressed in blue jeans and a loose cotton shirt, with a shiny packet in his hand.

Carol gaped at him. “Where you did get that?” As far as she knew, they'd used the final condom last night, after they'd come back from crabbing and climbed in the tub together, taking a long sensual bath.

“It was in my luggage, but in a different compartment from where I usually keep them. It was lodged in the corner, so the edges are bent. But other than that...”

She caught her breath. “Do we have time to use it?”

“We'll make time.” With lightning speed, he swept her into his arms. They kissed like crazy, tongue-to-tongue, instantly hungry for the forbidden taste of each other.

He backed her against a nightstand, and she opened his zipper and pushed her hand inside. His eyes went glassy as he pressed into her palm, letting her feel him up.

After a few anxious heartbeats, he went after her, lifting the hem of her soft summer dress and removing her panties. In the next frantic second, he shoved his jeans down and donned the protection.

Carol sat on the edge of the nightstand, and as he thrust into her, she locked her legs around him, pulling him closer.

“I like that you don't wear underwear,” she told him.

“You should stop wearing it, too.”

She couldn't fathom it, not in her daily life. “I'm too proper for that.”

He nipped at her chin with his teeth, gently, wildly. “Yes, you should see how proper you look right now, with your dress hiked up around your hips.”

Her bottom was getting sore from the friction of the wood beneath her, but she didn't care. “I couldn't find my panties on that first morning-after.” But later she'd uncovered them, on the floor, with Jake's discarded clothes. Or more precisely, his pants, since that was the only thing he'd been wearing.

He pushed deeper, harder. “I should have kept them as a memento.”

“So I could sew them into the quilt?”

He didn't stop the driving rhythm, not for an instant. “Patchwork panties. That works for me.”

She still hadn't decided if she was going to make him a quilt. For now, all that mattered was being with him one more time.

He kissed her again, making the back of her throat hum. With her arms looped around his neck, she dug her nails into his shirt and arched her body toward his, taking as much of him as he was willing give.

Jake gave her everything. Rough and fast. Hot and sexy. Dark flashes of pleasure zinged through her blood. She closed her eyes, wanting this desperate moment to last forever, yet knowing it couldn't.

He used his fingers, rubbing her, intensifying the sensation. She was spiraling into sexual oblivion, lost in the fury. He ravished her relentlessly, lifting her into a fiery abyss.

Carol came in a burst of heat, in a sea of molten wetness. The air was thick, her breaths choppy.

He emitted a gritty groan, and all she could think was how beautiful he was, how powerfully male. His climax exploded just seconds after hers, expelling energy and lust.

She untangled her legs from around his waist, and he put his forehead against hers. In the aftermath, she clung to the feeling, her heart beating a crazy cadence.

When they separated, she wanted to pull him back into her arms. But she knew that wouldn't change anything. So she let him go.

While he went into the bathroom to clean up, she made a beeline to her own bathroom, grabbing her panties along the way. This time, she wasn't going to lose them in the shuffle.

Carol returned with her dress smooth and tidy, her underwear in place. Jake came back with his shirt tucked in and his fly neatly zipped.

Fighting a bout of sadness, she glanced down at her feet. She was wearing sandals decorated with little sparkling gems. The other jewels, the real ones Jake had given her, were packed. She didn't know if she would ever put them on again.

“Ready?” he asked.

She looked up at him. “To go home and act as if nothing happened?”

He nodded.

She searched his gaze, but all she saw, all she felt, were her own scattered emotions staring back at her. “I think I will make you a quilt, with all of the Caribbean trimmings.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.” She wanted Jake to remember that she'd once been his lover, even years from now, when she was happily married to someone else. “Just so you'll have it.”

“Thanks. But we better go now.” He took charge of the luggage, his and hers. “Should we ask the caretakers for a ride to the helipad or do you want to walk?”

“We can walk.” It was a paved path, with stairs leading to the raised platform. “But I'd like to go the beach first, to the area where the sandcastle was. Or might still be.” Even if it was in ruins, she wanted to see the remnants.

“Okay.” He agreed to take her there.

They went downstairs, left their suitcases on the front porch and ventured onto the beach. But there was nothing to see. Everything was gone, including their beloved mermaid.

“We're too late,” he said.

“Did the candles get washed away, too?” she asked, trying not to feel empty inside.

“I think someone removed them. I doubt Lena would have allowed them to pollute the ocean.”

“That's good.” Carol turned to look at him as a salty breeze skimmed the shore. “It's so quiet.”

He captured a strand of her billowing hair. “Lena told me at lunch that she really likes you.”

Carol leaned closer. “I like her, too.” She'd gotten to know the pop star a little better. During the course of the weekend, they'd chatted here and there. But mostly Lena just smiled whenever she saw Jake and Carol together, saluting Carol for taking a sexy chance on him.

He released her hair, sliding it through his fingers. “And you were worried about fitting in with my friends.”

“But I misbehaved like them instead?”

“Much to my pleasure.” He kissed her, soft and slow, surrounded by the tropical paradise that helped inspire their affair.

Their last kiss, she thought. Their last moment. She slipped her arms around him, holding him as if it was never going to end. Only, they both knew it was coming to a close.

But still, she deepened the kiss, savoring the taste of him for as long as she could.

* * *

A little over a month had passed since the island trip, and now Jake was meeting Garrett for a drink at the LA-area resort Garrett owned. The main building was a grand hotel, with a view of the Pacific Ocean. To the west of it, along the boardwalk, were private condos. Guests could stay at either type of accommodation, depending on their needs.

On this crisp, clear afternoon, a group of people were horseback riding along the shore. Garrett was a horseman who'd built a fancy stable on the property for himself as much as for his guests. In fact, he lived on the premises, near the stables, in a custom-built house on a cliff above the beach.

Jake entered the hotel, his thoughts scattered. He was supposed to be concentrating on a fund-raiser that was in the works for their foundation, but he kept thinking about Carol instead.

She'd called in sick four times this week. That wasn't like her. She rarely, if ever, missed work. She did seem ill, though. The last time he'd seen her, she looked tired and pale. But Jake wasn't sure if it was physical or emotional.

Being around each other was becoming increasingly difficult, even with the amount of time that had passed since Lena's party. They did the best they could, but it was awkward, with both of them overcompensating for the heat that still sizzled between them. He wasn't sure what was worse: being alone at the office with her or having other people around. Either way, he was feeling the pressure, and so was she.

Was it the stress that was making her sick? He wouldn't be surprised if it was. But at this point he didn't know what to do about it other than urge her to see a doctor, if she hadn't done that already.

He was concerned that if it continued for much longer she was going to find herself another job, one that didn't include an ex-lover as her boss.

Then what would he do? How would he replace her? Carol was an asset to his company...and to him. She understood him. She knew what made him tick. But maybe it would be better if she left, if they didn't have to see each other every day. No, he thought. He didn't want to lose her, not like this.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

Jake spun around and saw that he'd just walked right past Garrett in the front lobby bar. Cripes, he didn't even realize what he was doing.

“Sorry. I just—” Rather than try to explain, Jake finished with, “Need a beer.”

“Me, too.” Garrett motioned to a table that had been reserved for them.

They sat down, and a spunky little blonde came by to take their orders. They both chose bottled Mexican beer. Normally, Jake would have checked out the waitress or at least smiled at her in his usual flirtatious way, but he was too preoccupied with thoughts of Carol to behave like his old self. Garrett seemed the same as usual, except maybe a bit more uptight.

Not that he was a stick in the mud. Garrett Snow was a great guy, just in a strong-willed way. He didn't take any crap from anyone, and he didn't party or play the field the way Jake did, either. Garrett had always been a one-woman kind of man. He was also organized and focused. He preferred to do things himself, barely needing a secretary or assistant. Jake couldn't fathom it. Carol was the most important person in his employ.

The beers arrived and Jake swigged his first. He glanced around, taking in the decor, with its rich, dark woods, painted details and Native American accents. Garrett was a mixed-blood from the Cheyenne Nation, sired by an Anglo father he'd never known.

“You look like you have a lot on your mind,” Garrett said, reaching for his beer.

“Yeah, I do. I don't know if I'm going to be much good today, finalizing the fund-raiser stuff.”

Garrett sat back in his chair. He was tall and broad, with deep-set eyes, short black hair and hard-edged features. He squinted a lot, just as he was doing now. “We can work on it another day.”

“Really?” Jake was surprised. His foster brother rarely pushed business aside. “You'd be cool with that?”

“I have things on my mind, too.”

Curious, Jake leaned forward. “Like what?”

Garrett didn't respond. He didn't alter his posture, either. He remained as he was, seated far back in his chair, his eyes narrowed. He looked like the hero of an old Western B movie, a half-breed cowboy, preparing to fight the bad guys and clean up the town.

Finally he said, “The woman who ripped us off will be coming up for parole this year.”

Ah, so that was it, Jake thought. Garrett had Meagan Quinn on his mind. The seemingly nice girl who'd embezzled money from them. She used to work for the accounting firm that Garrett, Max and Jake used, gaining access to their financial records and dipping her hands into the pie.

Jake was the most forgiving, of course. He knew what it was like to steal. “She's serving her time. She's paying her debt to society.”

“Yes, but she still has to pay her debt to us.”

That was true. As a stipulation of her sentence, Meagan had been ordered to pay restitution to her victims. The money she'd taken wasn't an astronomical amount, at least not by their standards. But it was still a crime. And it had still pissed them off, especially Garrett, maybe even more than it should have.

Jake took another swig of his beer. “Doesn't she have to get a verified job offer before she can get paroled? Isn't that one of the terms of her release?”

“Yeah, and my do-gooder mother wants me to offer her a job, here at the resort.”

Holy cow. If Jake hadn't been so shocked, he might've laughed. Regardless, he still cracked a joke. “Doing what? Working the front desk so she can get your guests' credit card numbers and go on a shopping spree?”

“That isn't funny.”

“Yes, it is. I mean, seriously, what the hell is your mom thinking?”

“She's thinking that I'll be able to give an ex-con a fresh start at a new life. Of course, the parole commission would have to approve her working for me, but since the restitution she owes would be going to our foundation, they'd probably agree to it.”

Jake nodded. An arrangement had already been made with the court for the money to be donated to their charity, instead of being paid to them. Garrett had taken care of that when he'd attended Meagan's sentencing. Neither Jake nor Max had made an appearance. They'd trusted Garrett to represent them.

“Mom's got it in her head that I
need
to do this, as much for the thief as myself.”

“A little forgiveness wouldn't hurt.”