Relatively Famous (12 page)

“That’s…. interesting.” I must look completely at a loss because D
rew is amused by my expression.

“It’s okay, Sydney. I know it sounds confusing. But that’s the best way I know to explain it to you right now. The downside of my work is that I travel quite a bit. Some projects are in different states, some in different countries. That’s actually why I wanted to go away with you this weekend. I have to leave for California at the end of next week, and have to be
on site for five or six weeks.”

Shit, six weeks?

“Oh. I guess I never thought about whether or not you traveled for your job. I mean, I don’t usually worry about things like that. Crap, that’s not what I mean. I’m sorry; I’m new at this whole ‘dating’ thing. I mean, we are dating, right?” I mentally smack myself in the forehead.
Damn verbal diarrhea again!
“Okay, tell me if I just screwed this all up.”

Drew leans over and kisses me sweetly, “I’d like to think we’re dating, if that’s okay with you?” He has that honest, open look on his face that I find so iden
tifiably ‘Drew’, so I just nod in agreement. “And you haven’t screwed anything up, Sydney. I should have told you about my trip sooner, I just didn’t want to scare you away. Plus I hope to be able to come back to New York several times during the six weeks, so with any luck you’ll be willing to see me when I’m home.”

I feel a painful lump in my throat at the thought of not seeing him regularly, but I force it down and decide to go with what feels right. “Well, you’re not wearing your hat to bring you luck, but I’m sure you don’t need it.” I smile, and then
feel shy and avert my gaze. “Of course I want to see you Drew. That’s all I seem to think about these days.” I look up at him through my eyelashes to see how he reacts. He unbuckles my seat belt and pulls me over to straddle his lap.

“Me too,” Is all he can say and he silences me, crushing his mouth to mine. We spend the last hour of the flight tasting and exploring each other, savoring every minute. I think how grateful I am that Gail doesn’t bother us until it’s time to prepare to land. Then I worry how different everything feels with Drew and how damn screwed I am
.

Chapter
15

Saint Barthelemy is captivating. After flying in over the thick greenery and bright turquoise sea, the plane lands on a frighteningly small runway. We are met on the tarmac by a very tan, very happy, middle-aged man who calls himself Philippe. He enthusiastically shakes our hands, seeming very impressed with Drew, then springs up the stairs to retrieve our luggage
. His attitude is quite contagious, and I find myself smiling at everything the man says.

Philippe ushers us over to a weird looking golf cart / Jeep hybrid car called a Mini Moke. I climb in the back as he drops our belongings on the front passenger seat. Drew rummages through his bag for a minute and joins me in the back seat. I burst out laughing when I see him wearing his ratty Red Sox cap.

“What? I know you said I don’t need luck, but it can’t hurt,” he says smiling.

Philippe is a great tour guide, pointing out local attractions and wildlife as he maneuvers the vehicle past the small colorful buildings in town and up toward the hills, where the homes become larger and further apart. We pass a salt pond, and he tells us how the island has no natural source of fresh water, describing how most homes have a rainwater collection system. He explains that they built a more modern desalination plant a few years ago to replace the old, inefficient one, to supply fresh water to the islanders. We see a few peacocks and lots of iguanas sunning on rocks and trees as the Moke climbs up and away from the sea.

It takes less than ten minutes to arrive at the “villa”, as Philippe calls it. I call it a mansion. I haven’t even gotten my bearings in the driveway when Philippe leaps from the car and takes our bags across the white gravel driveway. Drew and I follow him up the short walk to the door of the house.

I take in the different plants that are scattered throughout the flower beds around the villa: orchids, cacti, yuccas. I’ll have to remember to take some pictures of them later to show Leah. Philippe unlocks the door and pushes it open, allowing us to enter and then following behind. He brings our luggage through the house to the master suite.

“Wait here a minute, I’m going to chat with Philippe.” Drew gives me a quick peck and heads toward the bedrooms.

“You’re sure you got all of it?
” I hear Drew’s voice from the back of the house, and Philippe agreeing and saying “yes” and something else I don’t quite hear. “In the office, correct?” That’s all I can make out as Drew and Philippe come back into the great room
.

Philippe places the keys on the countertop, shows us maps and phone numbers we may need, and lets us know that the kitchen is stocked and he’s available at any time day or night if we have any questions or requests. He shakes my hand, tells Drew how great it is to meet him as he pumps his hand
energetically, and then bounds out the door.

“Well, Philippe is…” I begin.

“Interesting?” Drew finishes my sentence for me.

“That’s one way of putting it, I suppose.” We both laugh and decide to take a tour of the house.

The home is beyond spectacular. It’s twenty-eight thousand square feet and perched on the top of one of the highest peaks on the island. We find four bedrooms decorated in cheery shades of lime, coral and yellow, each with its own en suite and outdoor shower. The great room has a wall of sliding glass doors that open onto the multi-level tropical hardwood deck as does the master bedroom, effectively opening the entire back of the house to the outdoors.

We step outside and find breathtaking views of the entire island and the aquamarine waters of St. Jean Bay, and an infinity pool surrounded by lush tropical gardens. It reminds me to some extent of my mother’s home in Belize.

“This is even better than I imagined,” Drew says as he grabs my waist and pulls me down onto a chaise by the pool.

I look at him
in astonishment. “You’ve never been here?”

“No, I haven’t. Why?”

“I’m not sure, I just assumed. You said the owner was a friend. I don’t know why I thought that.”

“The owner is a friend, as well as a business partner in some of my investments. But I work a lot, and haven’t had the opportunity to just take off and come here. I don’t get to take a lot of vacations.” Drew sounds wistful at his lack of downtime.

“Yet you’re here with me. I assumed you brought all the girls you date here.” I poke him in the ribs.

“No, no other girls, Sydney. Just you. You make me want to take time off from work.” He lays me back on the lounge and covers me with his hard body. “Miss Allen,” he says as he rubs his nose against mine, “I do believe we’re wearing too many clothes for this tropical heat. What do you say we fix that?” He buries his head in my neck and drags his teeth along my skin.

“Mr. Forrester, I couldn’t agree more.”

After skinny dipping in the infinity pool and christening one of the double chaise lounges, I put on one of my new bikinis and start cutting up some mango in the kitchen while Drew grills chicken out on the deck. He
said that the villa has a cook and a housekeeper but he told his friend he didn’t want anyone else in the house with us. We have the outer panels of the great room open, so we can chat as we cook.

I pull some spinach and romaine out of the fridge to rinse and pat dry for our salad. Lettuce duty and chopping mango, that’s all Drew will allow me to do after I told him about the ‘spaghetti incident’. He laughed so hard when I told him that story that it took a good ten minutes for him to compose himself.

Hmph, we can’t all be Wolfgang Puck, you know. That’s what I get for ‘sharing’
.

“So, where does Chad live when he’s not here?” I ask loud enough for Drew to hear.

Drew wanders back into the kitchen with the chicken on a big glass plate. Barefoot and shirtless, I can’t tear my eyes from his body. He is in perfect shape and must work out
a lot
to maintain his sculpted physique. His shoulders are lean and broad and lead down to biceps that are strong enough lift me against the wall of my shower as he pounds into me like a jackhammer.
Best memory ever
. My eyes skim across his perfect chest and down his rippling abs to the ‘v’ that peeks above his low slung shorts.

If I threw the lettuce on the floor and licked each side of that ‘v’ would he stop me?

“Chad lives in L.A.” Drew’s voice breaks me from my admiration.

I snap my head up from my ogling and can
barely speak my mouth is so dry. “What? Who’s Chad?”

He looks at me strangely for a second, then puts the plate down on th
e countertop and leans in close. “Were you just eye-fucking me, Miss Allen?”

Holy shit!

“Ummm
, I’m not sure what you mean.” The burning heat floods my cheeks as I resume making the salads.

He reaches over
me and grabs a piece of mango, tossing it into his mouth. “Okay, we can play it that way, Sydney.” Drew smirks knowingly, takes a knife out of the butcher block and begins to slice the chicken. “Chad, the guy who owns this house, you asked me where he lives and I said Los Angeles.”

Fuck! How embarrassing! And totally hot
.

He slides some chicken onto each salad and I add the mango
on top, my pulse still racing. I attempt to act casual as I grab both plates and bring them outside to the stylish teak dining set.

“Where in L.A.?”

Drew sets a beer down on the table for each of us and sits next to me. “Brentwood.” He takes a huge bite of salad after answering me.

I chew my food as I
process this information. “Is he involved in the project you have in California?”

He takes a
deep pull from his beer bottle. “Yes, Chad is a principle investor as am I. He’ll be on site with me most days. That’s probably why he let us use his villa, he plans on bugging the shit out of me for six weeks and is just trying to butter me up.”

“Not a ba
d plan if you ask me,” I laugh.

Drew laughs with me.
“I agree. He’s a pretty smart guy.”

We spend the rest of the evening lounging by the pool and laughing as Drew tells me stories of his childhood in the Back Bay of Boston.

I’m laughing so hard I have to hold my stomach. “Stop, stop, there’s no way your sister told a girl you liked that you were allergic to deodorant!” I say between uncontrollable giggles.

He grins and his eyes light up.
“She did, believe me. She lied and told everyone that I couldn’t wear any because it gave me armpit rashes. It was revenge for the time me and my friends hid a walkie-talkie under her bed and made monster noises.” He looks so gorgeous sitting on a lounge chair by the pool, the dim house lights casting long shadows in the dark night. “She cried every night for a week. We were really mean to her that time.”

“We used to tear it up all over that city,” Drew reminisces fondly. “Me and my two best friends, Mike and Matt, woul
d get on our bikes and ride over to Kenmore and catch the Sox at Fenway. Sometimes we’d ditch school to get autographs from our favorite players and see batting practice.” His accent gets more and more pronounced the more excited he gets as he talks about his hometown.

“That sounds like so much fun. I didn’t do anything like that growing up. Do you still talk to your friends from home?” I sit on
the edge of the infinity pool so I can dip my feet.

Drew looks
down the hill at the ocean as it shimmers in the moonlight. “I still talk to Mike. Matt died of cancer when we were in high school. They were brothers.” He takes a long sip of his beer and looks at his feet. He clearly doesn’t like talking about this. Drew gets up from the chair and sits next to me by the pool.

“I’m sorry,” is all I can come up with to say
. I put my hand on his.

He shrugs like it’s no
big deal, but I can tell it is. “It was a long time ago.” He takes another big swallow of his beer.

I change the subject to
try and bring back some levity. “In the third grade, Denny Hirschler tried to kiss me by the swings at recess.” Drew looks at me in interest. “When he puckered up, I reached down and threw a handful of dirt in his face, then ran away.” I frown when I realize that not much has changed, I still run away from any type of connection with people.

“It’s y
our fault for being so kissable.” Drew reaches in and tilts my head toward him. He places a soft, tender kiss on my mouth then withdraws, looking out at the sea again.

“You don’t have any siblings, do you Sydney.” He says this like a statement, not a question, still staring at the
dark ocean.

“No, I’m an only child.” I know my voice sounds sad, and he picks up on it, swinging his head around to face me. Unnerved, I get up and sit in the nearest chair, curling my feet up under me.

“You know you don’t have to answer anything that makes you uncomfortable?” Drew won’t let me escape into myself. He climbs onto my lounge chair behind me and pulls me back to rest against his broad chest. The warm Caribbean breeze ruffles our hair and rattles the wind chimes on the deck.

“I know. I’ll let you know if I’m freaking out. I’m sorry I’m so difficult. I…I don’t date much,” I admit. “Part of the whole not wanting to talk about myself hang up I have.”

I feel crappy that he’s so nice about my neuroses. He shouldn’t have to put up with someone so damaged. He’s so perfect and hot and agreeable. He deserves better than me, but I’m too selfish to let go. He makes me feel safe from all of the bullshit I’ve been scared of, protected.

He winds his ar
ms around me in a tight embrace. “You’re not difficult, Sydney. Everyone is affected by life events differently. When and if you want to tell me what happened to you, I’ll be here. In the meantime, I’m happy just to spend time with you.”

“My parents are divorced. They haven’t spoken in twelve years, and I haven’t seen my dad since then either.”

Wow. I haven’t told anyone that. Ever
.

Leah already knew when she met me so she doesn’t count. Am I losing my mind? Or maybe I’m healing by spending time wi
th Drew.

“That must have been hard; how old were you then?” Even though I feel his body tense up behind me, his voice is like a calming wave that gently laps at me, eroding my walls bit by bit.

“Twelve. Yes, it was very hard. It made me very untrusting, as I’m sure you can tell.”

“I think you’re perfect.” He nuzzles my ear and my bikini bottoms are suddenly damp.

I turn so I’m facing Drew. “I don’t think I feel like talking anymore.” I slide my hand down his rippled torso and over the front of his shorts.

“Me either.” H
e grabs me in his arms and stands up, carrying me through the open wall to the bedroom.

Placing me down on the massive king-sized four poster bed, he climbs on
the mattress and uses his arms and legs to hover above me. I whisper his name as I lift my hips to try to rub against his bulging erection.

Drew
captures my mouth and slowly probes every inch with his tongue, teasing me mercilessly. “Please, I need you,” I whine. I can’t connect with words, with letting him get to know me. I can only connect physically.