Bare In Bermuda (2 page)

“If it were the right person, I would,” he said. “I've never been passionately in love with someone. If I found someone who I fell passionately in love with, I'd marry them in a second.”

“Why can't I find someone to fall passionately in love with?” She quickly and completely had fallen in lust with
Caballero Caliente
, but love eluded her. No matter how hard she tried to make her relationships perfect, they always ended.

“I don't know sweetheart,” he said. “Why can't I find someone to fall passionately in love with? Why do I torture myself by staying in a relationship that makes me miserable?”

“It's safe?”

“It’s safe,” he said. “Passionate love is dangerous and unpredictable. It requires a leap of faith. We are not leap of faith people. We're dither over paint swatches people.”

“How does one become a leap of faith person?”

Caballero Caliente
spoke on his phone and smiled. He had lovely teeth. An odd thing to notice. She wouldn't have thought of herself as a teeth person. More of a legs or shoulders or arms person. Definitely a stomach person. No doubt the ass factored in. He laughed and it took a moment to realize he looked straight at her as he did so.

“I don't know,” Simon said. “You figure it out and let me know. What are you doing? Are you getting drunk? Just be careful. I missed a flight to Indonesia because I was in the bar getting slaughtered and missed the announcement.”

Henna looked over her shoulder to the gate again. The woman with the baby had handed the child over to a man. That or he had taken the child from her for its own safety. As she took the moment to see what someone looked like as they shrieked at a gate agent, she was doubly glad she had walked away when she had. “I can see the gate. Those people aren't going anywhere anytime soon. I'm lurking until I find an empty seat. I'm ready to pounce, I tell you. Pounce like a cat. Pounce like a cat on the
caballero caliente
. Reow. Maybe go sit on his lap. At least he has a seat.”

“Get comfortable. I'm watching Hurricane Delores. You might not be going anywhere for a long time. Got to love the Weather Channel. Only your sister would plan a wedding on an island in the Atlantic during hurricane season.”

“I love my sister,” she repeated for the millionth time since Eden had announced her spontaneous wedding two weeks earlier to a man she'd known for a total of ninety days. “I love my sister. I'm going to have a good time in Bermuda. I'm going to have fun and relax.” The words had become her mantra. “I'm going to meet a foxy man whose two best qualities are his abs and stamina. I may not have you to run interference between me and my family, but I'm a big girl.”

“How long after you arrive do you think it's going to take for Judith to ask you why we never got married?”

“I think she might break a new land speed record.”

“Do me a favor,” Simon said. “Go find a man and get serviced.” Simon knew how long it had been since she'd had the attention of a man. “Find a passionate
amante
.”

“An
amante
?”

“Lover, I think. Or almonds. I'm not sure. Ask me what placenta is in Spanish. That I do know.”

“So I could either end up with a snack or a man.”

“Do you really object to either one?”

“No.” She felt just a touch peckish. Almonds sounded good. So did a lover. It was win win.

“Go find a man right now and drag him into a utility closet and have your way with him. Go get the
caballero caliente
. He's stuck in the airport just as much as you are and probably just as bored as you are. He would be up for a little slap and tickle in a convenient, yet somewhat raunchy location, where there’s a tantalizing possibility you might get caught.”

“Are you drugged?” Her gaze swept over the man again. He watched her intently. Getting caught staring thrilled more than embarrassed her.

“Just a little,” Simon said. “Okay, maybe a lot, but I'm serious, you giant chicken. You need a man. I can feel how uptight you are. Your tension is radiating through the phone. For the love of god, Henna, do something wild for once in your micromanaged life.”

“Just because I don't live my life spontaneously doesn't mean I micromanage.” She stopped talking, then started laughing along with Simon. “Okay, I can be a little neurotic at times.”

“A little?” Simon laughed then groaned. “I got to go, babe. The bathroom is calling. I love you. Have a great time in Bermuda. Go sidle on up to
Caballero Caliente
and ask him to give you a Spanish lesson. And by Spanish lesson, I mean get naked. Just in case you didn't understand.”

“Oh, I got you. I'm not going to get naked with a total stranger, but I appreciate the potential for living out a fantasy.”

“You don't have to get naked with the guy,” Simon told her. “But that doesn't mean you can't pretend you wouldn't.”

She snapped her phone shut after saying goodbye, then edged around the bar to where
Caballero Caliente
sat. Using elbows and determination, Henna found a standing spot at the bar next to the man to call her own. She gave him a smile before turning to the bartender who took an inordinate amount of interest in the man she thought of as her
Caballero Caliente
. When logic and the rules of waiting politely for the next turn dictated she should be next, the bartender ignored her as she moved on to another male customer.

“Have my chair.” The man spoke a smooth and sufficiently accented English, making him automatically sexy. She smiled at what the universe offered up. He met every requirement on her mental list of perfect for a purely sexual relationship for a predetermined length of time. That time being both short and hot. Dark eyes, dark hair, mid-thirties, fit, foreign, and well dressed. The tea-dyed linen suit coupled with a pristine white shirt was sophisticated and expensive looking. Perfect. “I was just leaving.”

“Pity,” she said. “You look about as bored as I feel. I thought we could commiserate.”

“Or I could stay and we could have a drink together.” He stood from his stool, shifting places with her before someone else could steal the coveted spot. She added tall to the list of what made him an ideal temporary lover.

“Thank you.” She adjusted her ass on the seat, then turned to her new friend, tall and handsome with deep brown hair. Eyes the color of coffee beans were not diminished by the fine lines that proved he smiled often. His most handsome trait had to be the air of confidence that surrounded him. No boy still trying to find his place in the world could ever seem so confident in his own skin. She gestured to herself. “Henna.”

“Eduardo. What will you have?” he asked with a vintage Ricardo Montalban accent. He raised a finger and hooked the bartenders attention as if he were the only person at the crowded bar.

“Whatever you're having.” She smiled as she mentally checked her posture and adjusted her legs to show them off as best she could. A few moments later, she had a glass of ruby Port in front of her and Eduardo's undivided attention. A bad morning turned into a promising afternoon. “Thank you.”

“You are very welcome,” he replied.

As he gave her a steely stare of intense passion, her body began to tremble, and heat radiated from her core. She feared if she looked him in the eye for long, he would see how his attention affected her. So in an effort to temper the sudden longing that had gripped her body, she studied her drink. A small voice that sounded a lot like Simon's taunted her.
Chicken. Big, yellow chicken that hasn't had sex in months or done anything even remotely daring in a decade.

Shut up.
She grabbed onto the adventurous and daring part of her personality, pulled up, and forced it forward.
You don't know this man. He doesn't know you. As far as he knows, you are sexy, fulfilled, adventurous, and daring. There is no reason you cannot be that person for an hour or two while you're waiting for an airplane. Be awesome, Henna! Be fabulous! You don't have to have sex with this man, but you can make him think you would, given the right opportunity.

“So,” she said. “Have you ever fantasized about picking up a total stranger in an airport and having your way with them?”

“What makes you think I haven't picked up a total stranger in an airport and had my way with them?” The look in his eyes and the tilt of his mouth told her what she needed to know. They were equally bored and up for a bit of naughty, flirty talk that might or might not lead to something more, depending on the direction Hurricane Delores decided to take.

The who of her fantasy had been sorted out. The how and the where could be problematic, but nothing was impossible. She had credit cards and determination. She lacked courage. That could be found in the depths of her soul. No one, especially Eduardo, knew who she was. At that moment, she could be anyone. Even someone with the confidence to take a risk and do something outrageously bold.

“Have you?” She returned his look.

“No,” he said. “But there is a first for everything. You are very beautiful and my flight is delayed.” He reached up and his knuckles ran down her jaw. “Perhaps we can have a drink or two and discuss the nature of this fantasy of yours.” He picked up his glass and raised it to his mouth.

At that moment, she got a good look at his hand. “Or, perhaps not.” She reached over, lifted his hand, and examined the pronounced tan line. “I'm not blind. At my age, a girl knows what to look for.” A white ring around his finger where a wedding band had recently been told her more than a month of casual chat in a bar could. Married men equaled bad mojo in her mind. She'd walk under a ladder or even own a black cat, but flirting with a married man, forget sleeping with one, just invited bad karma. “Married men are just one stone I prefer to leave unturned.”

“I'm not married.” The words came out simply, without being forced or sounding practiced. “I kept the ring on longer than I probably should have. It was time to take it off.”

Divorced. Of course. Because that was where life had taken her. Men, in the age range to be interesting to her, were either divorced or married. The ones who were still single were usually single for a reason. Generally not a good one. Not that she was in a position to judge, but she did.

“How long have you been divorced?” Why did she ask that? Why? The last thing she wanted was for him to be thinking about his divorce and his ex-wife.

He looked into his drink for a moment, gave the cubes a swirl, and then finished off the contents. “Two years.”

“Eduardo!” An older man with graying black hair and the smell of money about him approached. “
Commo estas?
” He smiled at her as the two men greeted each other warmly.

As she spoke about three words of Spanish, Henna silently sighed in despair as her fantasy man was pulled back into reality.

“Henna.” Eduardo gestured to the older man. “This is my very good friend Rodrigo Sandoval.”

“Hola.” She waved a little as she smiled.

Rodrigo gestured to himself, then Henna, then Eduardo as he spoke rapidly in Spanish.

Eduardo responded with a hand gesture then turned to Henna. “You speak Spanish?” Eduardo asked hopefully. “Perhaps you could join us?”

“Taco, hola, cabana, margarita,
amante
.” Around them the bar began to clear out. To be safe she leaned over and looked at her gate. Still full of people.

“
Amante
?”

“Doesn't that mean almonds?”

“No.” He smiled as if she perhaps both perplexed and amused him. Not a look men ever gave her.

“Good to know.” She would have to tell Simon what
amante
meant. “I don't speak Spanish. I'm sorry.”

Eduardo looked genuinely disappointed. Precisely how she felt. ”I’m so sorry, but you'll have to excuse me. I am afraid I will be disappointing you. Perhaps destiny will bring us together again.”

“Destiny?” She smiled a little. “Really?”

“Don't you believe in destiny?”

“As a rule, no.”

“Perhaps something will change your mind.” He then did the impossible and lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. “You are very beautiful, and it is not with a little bit of regret that I am going to say goodbye. I have not seen my very old friend in many years and will perhaps not see him again in many more. As much as I would like to stay here with you, I am going to walk with him down to his gate. Maybe with some luck, you'll be here when I return.” He put a large bill on the bar then gathered his things. With a smile and a nod, he left with the other man.

The male bartender in a black uniform T-shirt with the bar logo stretched across his impressive pecs stopped in front of her. “You know, if you want to fulfill some stranger in an airport fantasy, I have a backroom....”

“Oh, my god,” she moaned. Her cheeks flamed and her mouth formed an O. “You...you didn't hear that?”

“Oh, I sure did,” he smiled. “So that backroom?”

She openly checked him out. Clearly, the guy spent an inordinate amount of time both at the gym and on personal grooming. If Simon were with her, she'd put money on the bar that he was a model. Then Simon would take the bet and lose. Henna could spot a model, actor, or musician from a hundred paces. Especially when she was itching for a man.

“What's your name?” She looked into eyes the color of honey in the sun then down at his full mouth that was perhaps a touch too pink and girlish. He just didn't do it for her. Not even a little. Odd. Normally she'd be all over a man like him. He was even a bartender. Perfect. Just the sort of man who presented absolutely no risk of emotional attachment, but a great deal of fun.

“Anton,” he said.

“Anton. Nice.” She smiled a little. “I'm flattered, but I'm going to pass.”

Anton, with his exceptional biceps and his practically perfect jawline, pouted. Eduardo would never pout. At least, she guessed he would never pout. The fantasy of Eduardo held more appeal than the reality of Anton. Anton was sexy. Eduardo was sexy and sophisticated. Her taste in men had suddenly evolved. She would take the more mature and refined Eduardo over the younger and more disposable Anton anytime.

“I have a break coming up, and I just got a fifty dollar tip. How much for a blow?”