Bare In Bermuda (6 page)

“If my current venture falls through, I will consider what you have said when choosing a new career.”

“What do you do?”

“What do I do?” Tricky question. But the diluted truth would do. “I'm a farmer.”

She laughed loudly. “Bullshit. Farmer's don't wear Italian loafers and Swiss watches. If you're a farmer, then I'm a prostitute. Which I'm not.”

The wheels of the plane bumped along the tarmac as they made contact with the ground. The jolt distracted Henna from telling him off long enough for him to take control of the conversation.

“I'm really a farmer,” he said. “It's the truth. I'm meeting family so I need to be discrete. I believe you don't take money for your companionship. But perhaps you will indulge me and let me give you a gift or two during our time together. You are correct that we don't know much about each other, but I can truly say I would like to spend time with you as we can find it, so that I can learn more about you. What do you say?” He lifted her hand from the sleeve of his jacket and kissed her knuckles.

“I say okay. Just as long as we have that whole prostitute thing is sorted out, then I think we can find some time away from our other obligations to indulge in some mutually beneficial fantasy fulfillment.” She smiled at him at last. “As for gift buying...” She scrunched her nose a little. “I'll think about that. It's sound a bit sugar daddy to me, and I tend to pride myself on my independence. I get that some men are like that, and some women tend to get a bit bent out of shape if they're not showered with tokens of appreciation, but it's just not in my experience to expect that kind of thing. I tend to be a more fifty-fifty sort of girl.”

“And I tend to be a more hundred percent sort of man. I'm not going to let you buy me dinner or even split a bill with me. That would make me very uncomfortable.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “It's been a long time since I've been on a proper date.”

Their conversation was cut off by their arrival at the gate. Two hours at the very most and he would be engaged in the best sex money could buy. Or not.

Eduardo wasn't certain of what the truth might be. If she wanted to tell him she wasn't an escort, that was her prerogative. If she told the truth and that her experience with him had been pure escape, then it could be he had met the woman he'd been looking for to make his life more interesting and fuller than it had been in a long while.

Chapter Three

Henna learned of yet another of the benefits of flying first class when they arrived at baggage claim. Eduardo's bag, with the brilliant yellow first class tags attached, waited at the carousel. That additional benefit was negated by having to wait for her bag. Which, of course, came last. At least she'd used the time wisely to sort out having her carry-on returned to her. During the time it took for her to double, then triple check, that they had her carry-on in Miami, it had been properly secured, and would be sent on to her the following day, Eduardo waited patiently off to the side.

He didn't disappear as she feared he might when she insisted that the woman at the lost property desk call Miami for verbal confirmation that her bag, not someone else’s bag, was the one they had. Having Eduardo as a witness to what Simon called her rampant pickiness highlighted how difficult she might appear to be in other people’s eyes.

After she had her bag and all of the confirmation and more a reasonable person could want that her carry-on would be delivered to the hotel, they walked through the doors of baggage claim into the arrivals area. Eduardo gestured to a man who held a name sign that read Salazar. He spoke with the driver briefly before handing off his bag. The man reached for her bag, which she held on to. They wrestled for a moment with her suitcase, but he released it after she gave it a good tug.

“I've lost one bag today,” she said. “I'm not giving this one up.”

“Henna,” Eduardo said. “Relax.”

With a sigh, she gave up her bag. The man with the sign ran off with their luggage before she had a chance to chase him down and take her bag back. “Fine. What's the worst thing that can happen at this point?”

“You're on vacation,” he reminded her. “Leave the stress behind. I promise, if he absconds with our luggage, I will take you to Paris and buy you a new wardrobe.”

“I'll hold you to that,” she said.

Eduardo's reminder that her vacation had started and his suggestion she relax annoyed her. The thoughts, plans, schedules, lists, insignificant worries, and troubles that plagued her constantly tended to travel with her on vacation. A fear that someone at the detail shop she'd left her car at would disregard her explicit instructions not to spray that air freshener that stank of pine and a lingering question of whether or not she'd remembered to leave a note for her housekeeper to empty the fridge and give it a truly thorough cleaning, not just what the woman envisioned to be a proper clean, worried her as she stepped out of the climate controlled airport into a different world than the one she'd left behind that morning.

They walked together outside of the airport into the early evening and into paradise. Eduardo put a familiar arm around her waist as they stepped from the shadows into the sun. The feel of his relaxed body so close to hers calmed her constant agitation.

He stopped midstride as he drew in a deep breath of air. “I love this place. This is paradise.”

Bermuda, with its floral scented air and gentle breezes that carried the sound of the ocean to her ears, refused to let her care whether or not her plants would be watered according to the schedule she'd left behind or if her trash bins would be pulled up to the house after being lifted in a timely enough fashion. Petty concerns and the trivial minutia that made up her life became insignificant as the sun caressed her face and warmed her body. Her physical being forced her to become aware of her surroundings and absorb the peace around her. She sloughed off the accumulated stress she carried like a yoke around her neck as she drew Eduardo's arm tighter around her body.

“It is paradise,” she agreed then reached up and gave him a spontaneous kiss on the jaw. The bristles starting to emerge on the surface of his skin were piquant under her lips. Slightly sharp and a bit rough. Not unlike the man. “I'm happy I met you. At least I think I am. If nothing else, you bring out the capacity in me to be other than I normally am. Thanks for that.”

“You're welcome.” He brushed his hand down her bare arm then kissed her on the mouth and released her. “I live a very busy life. It is nice to have a moment of unexpected perfection.” The arm around her waist drew her in tighter as his mouth returned to hers. The kiss lasted only a moment before he broke it off. “Open your eyes.”

She flicked her lids open and stared at him.

“Tell me the truth,” he said. “Are you a prostitute?”

“Unbelievable.” She pulled away and put just enough space between them that she couldn't slap him if he persisted, but she could deck him with her purse if she needed to. “Are you a gigolo?”

He smiled. “No. I am not a gigolo.”

“Are you married?

“I am not married.” He placed a hand over his heart and raised a hand. “I swear, I am not married.”

“I'm a gynecologist.”

He narrowed one eye and raised the other eyebrow. “That is a woman's doctor? No?”

“Yes. I work with vaginas from a whole different angle.” She paused for a moment and considered what she'd just said. “Did I really just say that? Unbelievable.”

Since the ground didn't open up to swallow her whole, she backed up, prepared to run away in utter horror. Forget her bag. She had credit cards and a desire to get her life back. Who was she and why had she undergone a personality transformation since meeting Eduardo? “You know what? I'm not a hooker. In fact, I'm not anything like this person that I'm being at this moment. I can't say that I don't like it, but I can say that I find it a bit disconcerting. In fact, I think I'm going to get my own ride to the hotel—”

His mouth came down on her, effectively cutting off the string of chatter emerging from hers. He held her tight, preventing her escape.

“Henna,” he said a moment later. “Stop talking. It was a simple question. You're not the only one who’s behaving different from normal. We're both being cautious. Not just you. So... Are you a woman who normally seduces strange men?”

“No,” she said. “I'm not. Are you a man that normally solicits prostitutes in airplane lavatories? Or prostitutes in general? Because that's something I'd like to know.”

“As a rule, no. But I felt compelled to go to you when I saw you. Tell me, what would have happened in the bar if our flight had never left and my friend hadn't interrupted us?”

“I...” She forced her lips into a smile that felt more like a grimace as her eyes darted around. “I don't know. Honestly, if it came down to it, I'm not sure I would have gone through with it in the bar. I still can't believe what happened in the plane.” Unfortunately, his embrace didn't give her any option but to stay put.

“I am not certain I would have either,” he said. “But I enjoyed thinking about it. Then I saw you again.” His mouth pressed to hers, and her eyes automatically slid shut. When they separated, his lips went to her ear. “I don't know who I was at that moment I went to find you, but I wanted to be with you,” he whispered, and Henna felt his warm breath as he began to brush his lips gently against her hair. “I want to take you to the hotel and make love to you properly.”

Henna's knees nearly buckled under the suggestion. She breathed in the scent of lime and vanilla that surrounded him and nodded. “I'd like that,” she managed to croak out.

“So you can kick me out when you're done with me?”

She shrugged a little and smiled. “No,” she said while silently thinking yes. “I'd just be more comfortable.”

He didn't question her motives. After she'd had her way with him, she didn't necessarily want to kick him out but wanted to have that option. The man who had taken her bags pulled up in a generic black limousine. The man held the door for her as she slid into the back seat. Eduardo followed her then the door closed, sealing them in a cocoon of relative privacy.

Eduardo turned to her and placed a hand behind her neck. Their lips came together, and his tongue slipped into her mouth. The driver taking his place in the front seat interrupted the moment. As the man began to talk about the beauty of the island, the disruption caused by Hurricane Delores, and the weather, Eduardo lifted a finger to silence him.

“Thank you. Please take us to our hotel. I'm sure you can imagine we have had a very long day already and would prefer quiet,” he said. His finger pressed the button raising the partition.

She wanted to cheer. Why can't I do that? She dreamed of being the kind of person that could both politely and firmly, tell someone to buzz off. Eduardo had style. If she were alone in the car, she would know the man's life story by the time she arrived at the hotel after taking the extended scenic route. The curse of being nice.

As the car started moving, she turned to Eduardo ready to dive in. Making out in the back of a limo as foreplay seemed an ideal way to continue her sexual adventure.. The moment his hand lighted on her thigh, his cell phone rang.

He looked at the display on his phone. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I must take this. Hola .” His light and airy tone did not sound at all like a man denied the pleasures of Henna by an intrusive and unwanted call.

Henna looked at him as he talked on the phone. She examined him in the warm light of day from his dark brown hair over a face blessed rather than cursed by laugh lines, and down his long slim body, stopping at his fine strong fingers that curled around her thigh. When she thought the conversation was going to end, he reached inside his carry-on, rummaged around for a moment, then pulled out a creased newspaper.

He moved the phone away from his face for a moment as he turned to her. “Do you have a pen?”

She stared at him for a moment. “Do I have a pen?”
I'm sitting here next to you in a skirt with no panties and instead of ravaging me quickly in the back of a rather spacious limo, you want a pen.
“Just a sec.” With a click of her tongue, she dug in her purse past her torn panties. She had nothing on under her skirt and only so many miles before they reached the hotel. She handed him a pen after giving it a sharp click.

He started to scribble numbers on the newspaper. Her foot tapped Get off the Phone, pause, Get off the phone, pause. Not wearing panties lit a fire in her that woke the vixen within. Like all good girls, she secretly saw herself as a siren in disguise. A saucy sexual being who had the power to drive men to their knees.

Shedding the disguise made up of pencil skirts and sweater sets, revealed the secret. Beneath the sensible attire, she never wore equally sensible bras and panties. No. Always beneath the cotton and wool blends, hid the silk, satin, and lace of her extensive lingerie wardrobe. What she thought had been the penultimate of sexy, silk panties with a matching shelf bra, had been trumped by the ultimate in simplicity. Nothing could be equaled for pure sexual stimulation than nothing at all.

I get it. Her legs opened as much as the good girl in her would allow. The true purpose behind a full Brazilian wax revealed itself as the air drifted up her skirt and around her wet sex. The bad girl in her opened her legs a bit more. Her tongue clicked, marking off the moments Eduardo made her wait. She crossed and uncrossed her legs in a mixture of frustration and anticipation.

Enough. She put her hand on his thigh and made her presence known. One of two things could happen. Either he'd tell her to get off him or he'd get off the phone. She hiked up her skirt enough to straddle his thighs and sit on his lap. The movement of opening her legs and exposing both her bottom and her pussy was like a slap to her internal vixen. That vixen shook off the last vestiges of inactivity and jumped into action. She put her hand under his chin and held his face so that their eyes met. “Get off the phone now!” she barely uttered the words as her mouth shaped them clearly.

Eduardo nodded and held a finger. “Two minutes.” He did have the sense to toss the newspaper and pen to the side as his free hand slid up her skirt. Good choice. She'd give him one minute, then she'd let loose the vixen. The vixen counted to thirty, then made her move.