“You’re so good,” she admitted breathlessly. “But there are things I want to do, too, to you.”
“We may never make it out of the house.” He lifted his head, answering with a chuckle, but his eyes were hot and his hardness nudged the inside of her thigh. “I can’t wait to see what you have in mind.”
She leaned down to kiss him deeply, while reaching back to stroke the head of his erection, licking her lips in anticipation of tasting him this time.
“Looks like you won’t have to.”
M
ASON RELAXED AS HE WORKED
at the counter, Gina sitting close by. Staying in had been a great idea. Buying the new, daring clothes had been inspired, he thought to himself with a grin. He’d remember that striptease for the rest of his life, and wondered if he could get a repeat performance.
Gina was a sexy woman, though she didn’t believe it, and when she sang, his heart stopped. Still, he could imagine hanging around with her in faded jeans and T-shirts, reading or working together through a lazy afternoon, sort of like what they were doing now.
Whoa.
The little domestic fantasy had risen in his imagination far too easily considering he’d only known her for a few days. Still, hadn’t his father told him that he’d known his mother was “the one” within fifteen minutes of meeting her? Though Mom had made Dad wait two years before she married him.
“What are you smiling at?” Gina asked.
“Oh, just thinking about my parents. My dad said it was love at first sight.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I know when he looks at her, still, it’s like his whole face lights up.”
“That’s so sweet,” Gina said, smiling, too, freshly dressed in denim shorts and a white tank top that fit her well, particularly over pert breasts that needed no bra.
He met her eyes, and something lit up inside of him. He wondered if he had the same look his father did when his mother walked into a room?
The thought flattened him, and he lost track of everything. He recovered quickly, chuckling.
“I guess I should be worried, making dinner for a food critic?” Mason asked, the aroma of garlic and olive oil filling the kitchen as they used groceries he’d bought
to make dinner instead of going out. By the time they had finished seducing each other into exhaustion, it was too late, and they were too hungry to wait for nourishment.
“I don’t think you have any need to worry. If your cooking isn’t great, you have other considerable talents to make up for it,” she teased, her eyes sparkling as she drained and sliced roasted red peppers.
Her hands moved nimbly, he noted, as she cut the peppers quickly into even slices.
“Good to know. Tell me about what you do,” he said, curious to know everything about Gina that he could. “I don’t think I have ever known a food critic before. How do you end up in that kind of work?”
“Well, I didn’t really think I would, not at first. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, but I liked food, and thought it would be fun to work in a restaurant, so after two years of college, I applied to cooking school,” she explained.
He interrupted, “That explains how good you are with that knife.”
She smiled. “Yeah, but not good enough to compete with the best. It’s so competitive, I just didn’t have the ruthless ambition I needed to be a top chef.”
“So it’s just like on the TV shows?” Mason asked with a grin.
“Worse. It’s really cutthroat, no pun intended, and the kitchens can be really unpleasant places, depending on where you end up. I didn’t have the stomach for it,” she said, and they both groaned at her inadvertent pun.
“So, I switched out and finished college, got a degree
in journalism. I ended up working for a local newspaper, which was okay, but mostly low-end, boring kind of stuff. Not much upward movement.”
“And so you put those two together, the food and the journalism?” he said, pouring two glasses of red wine.
“Yes, though not on purpose, it just sort of happened. I ended up freelancing various projects and writing for some local food magazines, columns, interviewed restaurant owners, and it evolved into my small syndicated column, ‘Spice of Life.’ It does well enough that I was able to quit the paper and work freelance.”
His eyebrows lifted in recognition. “Hey, I’ve read that column! I didn’t make the connection. It’s a good column. Fun, informative. I’ve taken several of your recommendations.”
“Thanks. I like it, though it’s not a very glamorous profession.”
“What do you mean? You’re a local celebrity, of sorts. You go to all the new restaurants, all the events. They quake in their shoes when they see you walk in.”
That made her laugh out loud, and she shook her head.
“Hardly. There are food critics with that kind of power, but I’m not one of them. I try to be friendly and positive in my reviews, anyway. I tell the truth, but I know from the inside how hard these people work, and I’m not out there to tear them down.”
“Admirable.”
She shrugged. “I like it, and I’ve made some friends.
Working on your own severely limits your social life. I usually end up going to all of those events alone, and then going home and sitting up all night trying to find something clever to say about it.”
“Why do you go alone? You can’t take dates? Friends?”
“My social life dimmed considerably after I started freelancing, but also, when I go, I have to pay attention to everything from the service to the surroundings, as well as the food. I’m usually taking notes and so forth, so it’s distracting if I go with someone.”
“Huh. Okay, what would you say about this?” he asked, blowing on a spoon of red sauce and lifting it to her lips. She tasted and swallowed, closing her eyes as she did so. Her cheeks were rosy from the heat in the kitchen, her hair a little mussed from the afternoon of sex, her full lips still showing evidence of his kisses. Mason wished he had a camera.
“Piquant without being too acidic, it’s an improvisational sauce that shows the cook knows how to tease the taste buds while not overwhelming them,” she said smartly. Then caught her breath when he leaned in and kissed her deeply, his hand on the back of her head as his mouth explored hers for a few hot moments before he released her and went back to the stove.
He smiled to himself, stirring the sauce and waiting while she caught her breath. He turned to see her taking a sip of wine.
“And the service?” he asked.
“Aggressive, creative and unparalleled,” she said,
watching him and not bothering to hide the lust in her eyes as she went back to making their bruschetta. “Also worth noting, the cook has a fantastic ass.”
He grinned, putting the cover on the sauce. “I think that could be considered sexual harassment.”
“Okay,” she said agreeably. “Here, you take a bite. You must be hungry after all of that exertion earlier,” she said, spooning a mix of vegetables, cheese and olive oil onto a freshly toasted slice of baguette.
He was starving, but she was so beautiful that the food took a distant second place to the thought of taking Gina again, right here in the kitchen, before they could get to dinner.
She was a lot of fun to be around, creative and daring, and obviously a skilled cook. As he sank his teeth into the hors d’oeuvre, his eyes rolled back and lust for Gina and lust for the food she had fed him mingled as the succulent mixture she’d concocted completely took over his senses.
“Good?” she asked, and he nodded enthusiastically, taking another bite, gently nipping the ends of her fingers this time as she yanked them away.
“Hey! Watch it,” she exclaimed.
“What?” he asked innocently. “You aren’t part of the appetizer?”
She laughed as he continued to lick and nip at her fingers, his arms sliding around her and making sure she didn’t fall backward.
Mason hadn’t laughed this freely or had this much fun in a long time. Inevitably, the playful nibbling of her
garlicky fingers led him to her lips, still a little spicy from the sauce. Laughter gave way to sighs and moans as heat rose in the kitchen, and not from the cooking.
“You’re delicious,” he said, his hands moving up under her halter again.
“I think your sauce is burning,” she said breathlessly as he ran his thumbs over her nipples.
“Who needs food?” he said. He knew she was hungry for more than dinner, just as he was.
“I do. You’re wearing me out. Go turn it down before we have a kitchen fire,” she said, pushing him away with a chuckle.
“Fine. First food, then sex, you vixen. And this is not all me. You’re a wild woman.”
She laughed again, shaking her head. “Only with you,” she said softly, taking the plate from him, a slight edge of doubt replacing the teasing light that was in her eyes.
“I like that idea. You’re all mine,” he said spontaneously, but he meant it. They both seemed surprised, the words hanging between them before they broke the look and carried their plates to the table.
“Listen, I know it’s only been a few days, but it’s like what would normally take weeks in real life has been condensed for us, if that makes any sense,” he said, shaking his head. “Whatever is happening between us, it’s intense,” he added with a half smile, digging in to his food.
“I know what you mean. I feel it, too. It’s the intensity of the situation. We’re here, we’re forced to only depend on each other, to only be with each
other…it makes it harder to know what’s real and what’s not.”
Mason frowned. “No, I know what’s real. I know whatever we have, it’s special. I’ve felt that from the first time I touched you. I’ve never felt that with anyone else.”
“Mason, I’ve been around the newspapers for some time, including the social pages. Some of your previous relationships have been with some pretty high-profile women. Glamorous, exciting. Believe me, that’s not me. Tracy, maybe, but not me.” She waved her hands around. “Believe me, this whole situation, the adventure, the clothes, it’s the exception in my life. You even picked out these outfits, not me.”
“And you look spectacular in them. Besides, it’s not entirely true that I date socialites all the time. One or two, sure, but my daily life is mostly work, family. Normal stuff. Just like you. Most of the women I’ve dated are usually professionals I meet through work.”
“But no one special? Ever come close? You know, to getting married yourself?”
“Nope. Not yet.” He looked at her deeply, and thought he saw her hand tremble slightly as she reached for her wine.
“I’ve never met anyone I was that serious about, either. Certainly no one with whom I’ve had chemistry like ours,” she admitted.
“I think we have a little more than sex going on here, Gina.”
“How could we? Relationships take time, this is…a fantasy. An adventure.”
He knew she was right, at least in part. How many divorce cases had he handled with people who’d jumped into marriage too quickly, who didn’t wait to make sure it was right?
“I’m not saying we should run off and elope, but don’t you think we might have something worth exploring?” He thought of his father’s story, and wondered if history wasn’t repeating itself.
She closed her eyes, took a sip of wine and met his gaze squarely. “I don’t know what to think. This is all very exciting, but it’s not real life.”
“Real life can be exiting, too.”
She shrugged and didn’t say anything, paying attention to her food.
Gina intrigued him. She was clearly adventurous, sexually and otherwise, and yet she didn’t seem to see that about herself. She was smart, sexy, accomplished and had her head on straight, but seemed to think her sister’s socialite lifestyle was more attractive to him than her own more low-key one.
When this situation was resolved he planned to get to know her better, and show her how exciting ordinary life could be.
T
RACY AND
R
IO PUSHED THROUGH
the light brush of the plant life on Caledesi Island.
“You remember where this spot is?” Rio asked, sounding doubtful.
“Yes, it’s just ahead. Gina and I used to row out here all the time when we were teenagers. We used to play ‘pirate king’ here with our friends during the summers. We’d hide all kinds of things all over the island, supposed to be buried treasure, in different places, then we’d see if we could find it. No one will find it there,” Tracy assured Rio, running her hands over the goose bumps that appeared on her skin even with the warm sun shining down.
“Good. Let’s hurry. We need to do this, and then get on our way,” Rio said, stroking a hand down her hair, and she smiled at him, excitement and love swelling inside of her.
They were meant to be. All of these horrible things had happened so that she and Rio would be back together, Tracy just knew it. They’d put the meeting log in a safe box, after they made two copies. One that
she’d left with her lawyer, only to be opened if something happened to her, and one that they had with them, about to hide it where no one would ever find it.
“Maybe we shouldn’t call him, Rio. He’s going to be very angry. I think we should just leave.”
“He has to know that we sent a copy to someone who will know how to use it if anything happens to us, and that we hid the original where only we could find it. It’s the only way he might back off. We’ll let him know we’ll never say a word, as long as he leaves us and our families alone.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Rio. And I—I…I’m so sorry about Peter, and what I did…getting us all into this mess, but mostly, I’m so ashamed of what I did with him, that I cheated—”
Rio sighed heavily, wiping away tears from her face, and his understanding almost made her feel more ashamed. It would have been easier, in some ways, if he were still angry with her.
“We all make mistakes, my love. I know I pushed you into the arms of another man. It makes me want to kill him, to think of him touching you,” he said roughly.
“We can start fresh now. I love you, Rio.”
His features softened, so handsome, she thought. How could she have ever wanted anyone else?
“The future is in front of us. All we have to do is finish this and leave. We can come back once he has moved on.”
Tracy nodded, wondering how she could have ever doubted him. They stopped, their touches mingling,
followed by kisses that deepened and got hotter. Even the humid air of the island felt cool to her skin as Rio’s hands closed over her breasts, touching her in ways that made her forget everything.
“I thought you said we had to hurry,” she said, unbuckling his pants, and releasing him into her palm.
“We will hurry,” he said with a wicked grin. He turned her around and lifted the edge of her sundress, ripping the soft silk of her thong as he found his way unerringly to the center of her heat, drawing a strangled cry from her lips as she tried to be quiet. It was nearly impossible, as his touch and the way he moved inside her made her want to scream with how good it all was.
His pace increased, thrusting hard as he murmured endearments and encouragements, his hands making magic everywhere he touched. She planted her hands forward, against the trunk of a large tree, giving herself over in a way she hadn’t felt since they had first met.
“You’re mine, Tracy, and I’m yours,” he said huskily, moving inside of her with sensual, perfect rhythm. “There will never be anyone else ever again.”
“Yes, yes,” she agreed on an exclamation emphasized by the emotions that flooded her at the same time her climax stole her breath. Rio’s followed quickly as all words were forgotten.
Minutes later, they fixed their clothes and put themselves back together, making their way through the woods again. Rio lifted her hand, wrapped in his, to his lips.
“I can hardly wait to have you to myself and show you how much I have missed you. Slowly and thoroughly,” he said with such erotic promise that she shivered in the heat of midday.
“I want that, too.”
They found the old shack, still abandoned, and hid the copy of Dupree’s meeting log underneath some old floorboards.
“Let’s get to the boat and we’ll make the call.”
She nodded, feeling more secure. They could do this. It was a good plan. Tracy only wished she’d had a chance to talk with Gina, to let her know. It scared her that her sister had not answered her phone or returned her calls, but Rio convinced her that Gina was probably involved with Mason. Hopefully her sister would find a way to forgive her, and Tracy promised she would make it up to her later.
“Okay, let’s go,” she said with more confidence than she felt, and they got in the car, heading back.
M
ASON HADN’T BEEN OUT ON
his boat in a while. He recognized how much he missed it, looking out over the water at the distant coastline, as the large tour boat they were on made its way over the waves. The water in the gulf was getting rougher as they got into winter, but he watched Gina, who stood solidly on deck, enjoying the view as much as he was. The choppiness didn’t seem to bother her, either.
“I’m glad we decided to get out of the house and do
this,” he said, wrapping his arm around her as they both glanced out over the rail.
“Me, too. I love being on the water. It makes me feel…free.”
“I know. Do you have a boat?”
“No, not of my own. But my stepdad loves to sail and fish, and he had us on boats since I can remember.”
Which explained her sea-hardiness.
“I still sail with my dad from time to time, but I haven’t been on my own boat since August. Work takes over.”
“Sail or motor?”
“A twenty-eight-foot sailboat. I bought it used, and usually work on it over the winter. I’ll have to find time this year.”
“You and my stepdad would get along great. He loves working on boats.”
They entered a channel, and a man came out on deck, dressed in an old-time diving suit with a helmet, perfectly round with multiple round windows that made him look as if he’d come out of an old movie.
“What’s he doing?” Gina wondered out loud.
“I think he’s going to dive for sponges,” Mason said, watching the guy gather everyone close. Sure enough he explained the history of sponge diving and how the small community had become “the sponge capital of the world.” The man standing next to the diver went on to explain about how expert sponge divers had come from Greece, settling in Tarpon Springs, creating the entire
industry that supported the town and which had become a major tourist attraction.
Mason and Gina watched with fascination along with several other people as the man went down into the water in the heavy suit, assisted by his friend, and came up moments later holding a wet, dark brown sponge that was covered with muck.
Making his way back over the rail, the rakish Greek diver allowed everyone to touch and explore the sponge, and in his accent explained what would happen to the raw sponges once they went back to dock and were cleaned and trimmed for sale. It was a practiced speech, obviously given over and over, but Mason also noted how genuinely the man appeared to love his work.
“They are wonderful,” Gina said about the sponges. “It’s all I’ve ever used, though I found them at the beauty shop. I’d been here before, when we were kids, but we never took the tour. It’s interesting to see where they really come from.”
Mason nodded, though his mind drifted off to a fantasy of washing Gina from top to toe with one of the soft sponges, working it over her smooth skin, leaving no spot unexplored. He put some money in the tip jar that was provided as they walked off the boat, and in the shop bought some of the sponges with the idea of making that fantasy a reality.
L
ATER, AFTER RETURNING HOME
and changing clothes, they walked among the dinner crowd under the numer
ous Greek flags along the street, hand-in-hand, enjoying the Mediterranean atmosphere of the town. They appeared every bit the vacationing lovers as they strolled on their way to a romantic dinner.
Gina wore the gauzy goddess dress, loving how the soft, filmy material swished against her skin, leaving her legs exposed below the knee and her shoulders bare to catch the fresh breeze coming off of the water.
It was playacting, complete with new names, calling each other Roger and Annette in the presence of others. They perused some shops and walked through the dark halls of a somewhat homemade museum in the back of a store that illustrated the history of the area.
As Mason was caught up in conversation with one of the store’s owners, Gina drifted away and looked through bins of cute souvenir items and absently picked through a bin of sponges. The day had been wonderful, but her mind went back to Tracy, and her mood took a nosedive.
Here she was, safe and sound, with Mason, while Tracy could be in some horrible situation. It wasn’t right. But what could she do?
Her eye caught sight of a display of disposable cell phones, and peeping to see where Mason was, she quickly grabbed one and bought it, unwrapping it and stuffing it in her purse before Mason could see.
They couldn’t be traced, at least that’s what she’d heard. If she tried to call Tracy, who would know? What would it hurt? She hated sneaking behind Mason’s back, but she needed to call Tracy, to at least try to make
contact. There had been no word from the federal agents, and Gina couldn’t just sit by and do nothing.
“Are you ready?” Mason asked, his eyes drifting over her in the dress appreciatively.
“Yes, I was just browsing,” she said, smiling brightly as she kept her purse—and the phone—close at her side.
They left the store and the air had cooled considerably. Gina enjoyed the warmth of Mason’s arm around her shoulders, and how he pulled her in closer as they walked. There were a number of Greek and Spanish restaurants to choose from, and she imagined all of them were probably wonderful. Everything around them was authentic, including the food. It made their pretense stand out for her, uncomfortably so.
“You look gorgeous in that dress, but I can’t wait to get home and get it off of you, Annette,” Mason whispered in her ear as he held open the door to one of the Greek restaurants with one hand, and guided her ahead of him with his other on the small of her back.
She looked back at him flirtatiously, batting her eyelashes. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Rog,” she said on a purr, taking him by the lapel of his casual summer blazer and pulling him in for a quick kiss.
They turned to find the hostess—a lovely, older Greek woman with a wide, welcoming smile—watching them approvingly. She sat them at a lovely table near the window where Gina could equally enjoy the view of the quaint street and the adjoined bakery, where pastries and confections beckoned to her.
The dress made her feel like a princess, and the candle on the table flickered softly as the server brought them two glasses of wine that she hadn’t even heard Mason order.
“To Roger and Annette,” he said, lifting his glass, his eyes looking deeply into hers.
She lifted her glass, as well, tapping it to his. “While we live, let’s live,” she said softly.
“That’s a nice sentiment,” he said after a sip.
“My dad always said it, and it seemed apt,” she replied, habit forcing her to test the wine carefully, finding it a tad tannic but still very nice for the price point. “Sort of like what you were saying about us taking the chance to enjoy this time, even in the situation.”
Desire darkened the green in his eyes in the most intriguing way. And she couldn’t deny it, she got a total rush from seeing his need for her reflected in his face. Could she tell him about the phone and her plan to call Tracy? Could she trust him? As she studied the menu, she barely saw the offerings listed there.
“What? What’s the matter, Gina?” Mason asked.
She pushed her thoughts aside. “Living in the moment isn’t always easy, I guess. I know there’s nothing we can do, and I want to be with you, to enjoy what we can while we can, but reality…it’s always hovering. How can I sit here, dressed up and having dinner, when who knows where my sister is…if she’s even…”
Tears threatened, and Gina knew she’d been holding
it back, stuffing her worries and fears underneath the thin layer of make-believe, distracting herself with living out her fantasy so that she didn’t go insane thinking the worst.
Yet she couldn’t pretend forever. It just wasn’t part of her nature. Her training as a journalist, even if she was only a restaurant reviewer, had made her a realist.
“Hey. Stop it,” he said gently. “If they knew anything, they’d call us or let us know immediately.”
Gina dabbed at her cheeks with a tissue from her purse, glad she never wore heavy makeup, but not wanting to draw any attention.
“I know, but—”
“No buts. She’ll be okay, I promise.”
“How can you do that? How can you know?”
“Because until we know otherwise, it’s better to have faith, right? And you have nothing to feel guilty about. Tracy made her own bed here, and that’s harsh, but it’s also true. And as much as I don’t like how we came to be here, I can’t regret being here with you right now.”
Wiping away the last of the tears, she smiled. “I’ll try not to let it get to me. I know I’m being a baby.”
“No. Not at all. But maybe I can help you refocus,” he said, reaching down to capture her foot by the ankle and bringing it up to his lap where he stroked the tender bottom in a motion that should have tickled. Instead, it muddled her thoughts and suffused her with erotic heat just as the server came to take their order.
Thank goodness she ate out at restaurants for a
living, and Greek food was among her favorites. She tried to pull her foot back, but Mason didn’t let go, continuing to stroke as she ordered in a voice that was husky. The server, a young Greek who let his handsome eyes linger on her for a moment longer than necessary, wrote down the order before he turned to Mason.
“Don’t be embarrassed. The Greeks are passionate people and you’re too sexy to stay unnoticed,” he teased her, a sparkle in his eye. “But maybe I should worry. We’re supposed to keep a low profile, and here you are, looking so beautiful, flirting with young waiters.”