Capri's Fate (5 page)

Really? How cliché can you get?

Two flutes of champagne filled with sparkling bubbly rested on what used to be my dining room table. Now, it was a banquet table with a centerpiece that must have emptied the local florist shop. At this end of the table, on a snow white tablecloth rested gleaming gold dishes and sparkling crystal wine goblets. Four forks rested beside each plate. Four? I can figure out two, salad and dinner. Only two chairs were present. Guess we weren't having company.

Mounds of bright pillows lay scattered about in little sitting nooks. The ceiling was covered in brilliant hues of Iris purple, Orchid blue, Rose red and Tulip yellow silk swathes
, stretching from the center out to the wall then draping to the floor.

The room was softly lit, casting a romantic atmosphere. A bit creepy as there was no source of the light. No candles. No lamps. Just light
that increased or faded as I wandered about.

A breeze tickled the back of my neck. I turned.

He appeared. He didn't enter. He just appeared dressed in a black tux. Tall, with smiling eyes and a sexy grin. How did he know? The rule is, if you can't get a man in a uniform, put him in a tux—a black tux with a bow tie—then rip it off of him. Okay, maybe my hormones are still on edge.

"Thall?"

He smiled.

I giggled. This wasn't a sophisticated woman giggle. It was an embarrassingly sixteen-year-old one. He held out his hand. As I reached for it, music began to play. He took me in his arms and began to move us to the rhythm of the melody.

Confession moment—I'm not a great dancer. The Governor's Ball this dress was purchased for—think of it as a Governor's Sit and Drink instead.

His arms felt strong around me. I wanted to think of something witty to say, but my mind couldn't focus. The music seemed to fill it. My body moved with his. The music wasn't any song that I knew. It was just music. And it was sexual. As if the notes
stroked my soul. I felt molten moving with him.

His eyes were a shade of vintage, red wine. No, change that, they were the blue of the fathomless part of the ocean. Wait, they changed color again to the interior of a lush forest. With every change, the color stayed deep and dangerous. I could lose myself staring into them. They, like the music, somehow seemed erotic and
quickened my breath.

Mere words couldn't describe the lusciousness of his lips. Parting, they locked themselves onto mine. His kiss was like fire. The heat that engulfed me made my knees weak. I started to fall and broke the kiss with a gasp. His arms held me.

I rested my head on his shoulder and released myself to him. His hands didn't move, but I could feel the caresses over my body, down my back, across my rear and along my arms. His thighs rubbed mine. My hard nipples pressed into his chest.

Then, in the midst of this sensual, erogenous nirvana, common sense slapped me on the back of the head.

"This isn't real. You're not real." I stumbled back.

"What? This isn't real?" He rippled his fingers across my chest.

"Yes." I shook my head. "No. I'm mean…yes, I felt that, but…" I crossed the room needing distance from his sexual magnetism. Tears threatened to escape from my eyes. I squeezed them shut.

Maybe when I open my eyes everything will be back to normal. One. Two Three.

"I'm still here." He held out a single, long stem, red rose.

Its fragrance enveloped my senses from across the room.

"This. This." I waved my arms around like a crazed cheerleader. "It's all wrong. I need order, structure. I want my life."

The rose floated across the room and slithered its velvety petals under my nose.

I flicked it away. "You said you were here to guide me sexually. Well, all you've done is give me a couple of mind shattering orgasms, which by the way, I'm truly thankful for but…"

He tilted his head to the side. "But what?"

"What guidance was there?"

"I gave you a taste of things to come. Did you not enjoy it? I believe, by your physical reaction, your body was starved for it."

Low shot.
"Bastard!" A tear dribbled down my cheek. "You've literally fucked me for ever being able to have decent sex with a real human."

His eyes sparkled. "So you do want me?"

My knees buckled and I collapsed on the pillows. "No. I want a real man. A man I can love. Who'll love me back. Who won't…" The sob garbled the rest of my sentence.

The silk covering on the pillow was marred with teardrops. I played with the strings of the little corner tassel. "I want a man who wants more than a trophy wife. Someone to take long walks with on a beach. To snuggle next to with a mug of hot chocolate in front of a big crackling bonfire."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Thall hadn't moved. He didn't step closer to offer comfort. Instead, he was a silent statue in a black tux. And that was so the wrong thing to do. I grabbed a pillow and flung it across the room at him.

Tripping over the length of my skirt, I stood and stomped back across the room. My blood was on fire but eroticism didn't cause it. I locked my gaze on his and let him have it with both barrels.

"I've been a good girl. I've worked hard all my life, played the game by the rules. Then my ass of a husband goes off with that…that…bitch. And just who does that little hussy think she is strutting in and stealing my husband? Those boobs were store bought."

He stretched out his hand
, but I slapped it down. "Don't touch me. Don't give me the fantasy. I can't touch you. Hold you. I need reality. It's what keeps me sane. I need my focus. My work. NOT…Not…not…"

"Me."

I sodded. Make that sobbed and nodded at the same time.

He faded like a fireworks display. The brilliant explosion of light and joy dulled to smoke, which dissipated in the breeze.

My heart shriveled.

A cold numbness engulfed me.

Two words escaped my lips.

"Come back."

Chapter Five

I unrolled my yellow yoga mat, sat crossed legged on it and inhaled the serenity of my life. Three days of no disembodied voices speaking to me. Nothing floated across my room. Fire didn’t erupt in my womanly parts.
Well, that part was kind of a bad thing.
But, I did get to spend the whole weekend at my office cleaning up a million little details. The Asian quarterly forecast looked good. Sizeable Christmas bonus. I wiggled my butt against the mat.

"Hey you." Kat plopped her mat next to mine. "You wouldn't believe the day I had. The
Garland quadruplets were in today for their annual checkup. May chaos reign supreme? Why out of all the dentists did…"

Blah. Blah blah blah. That's all I heard.

The touch of her hand on my arm snapped me out of my reverie. "You okay? You totally zoned out. Too tired from spending a weekend at the beach?"

"What?" You know the saying
, 'your heart jumps up into your throat'. Well it really does.

She rubbed my arm. "You've got a bit of a tan. Tried to call—"

The entrance of Joi, our instructor, cut off Kat's sentence. "Coffee, after class. Your treat." Kat winked and turned her focus to the front.

Yoga is my meditation. I let my thoughts wander. Usually, they
flow to my happy place, either a sun drenched beach with a hot handsome companion or a box filled with dark chocolates. But today, there was no focus. My warrior pose sucked; a baby kitten could have tipped me over. And down dog, let's just not go there. But no, I didn't hurt myself when my hands slipped out from under me and I face planted on the mat. Thanks for asking.

Hearing Joi say, "Namaste" was like being released for summer vacation. I barged out the door, changed my clothes, grabbed my purse and hurried out to catch a cab. Ten thousand taxis in this city and not one of them passed by the
Flowering Joi Yoga Center. My yoga mat tapped my shoulder. Thall?

I turned my head. Kat stood next to me, holding my mat. "You forgot this in class."

"Thanks." I tucked it under my arm.

She stepped out on the road and shrilled out a tomboy whistle. A cab pulled next to her and stopped. Kat glanced back. "Coming? Or do I have to haul you in here?"

I trudged over and slipped onto the back seat.

Kat tapped the glass divider. "O'Malleys. Know it?"

The cabbie nodded and cut into traffic.

I resettled myself after being lurched to the side when the taxi moved. "O'Malley's? I thought we were going for coffee?"

Kat turned toward the other window. Her reflection showed her biting her bottom lip as she fought back a chuckle. She looked back at me. "Honey, anyone who face plants that bad during down dog pose needs a beer."

I scrunched up my nose and closed my eyes. "Oh, you noticed."

"Three quarters of the class noticed."

Bouncing off the door panel as we veered round a corner, I glanced out the window. The big shamrock in O'Malley's neon sign flashed invitingly. The cab slammed to a stop. I caught my purse from flying off my lap. After tossing a few bills
through the divided, I scooted out of the taxi before he shot back into traffic.

O'Malley's is a step-back-in-time kind of Irish pub. Big polished wood bar on the right hand side, with a mirrored wall, numerous draft beer handles poking up and gleaming brass everywhere. Seating is mixed between tall bar stools and big padded chairs nestled around dark wood tables. The TV, up in the corner, is usually on a European football match. Patrick, the bartender, has a passable Irish lilt in his voice. But I suspect he's from
Jersey.

We settled into a corner booth facing out into the bar. Kat ordered a half-pint
of Kilkenny Irish Cream Ale, and I asked for the same in a Guinness Draught. No ordering a Bud Light or Coors here. This is an
Irish
pub. Legend has it, the last person who ordered a non-Irish beer
volunteered
to be the backstop for a dart tournament.

"Can I skip the pleasantries and go straight to what's wrong?" Kat clicked her cell phone shut and tossed it into her purse. That meant she was serious. It
was girl talk time. "Oh, and don't bullshit me that it's nothing or that you're okay. I know you. Something's up. Where'd you go this weekend? I called and called."

The waitress placed our beers on the table. I paid for the two with a sizeable tip then wrapped my fingers around the glass and sighed. Guinness is a stout. That's a dark beer and kind of strong
—exactly what I needed. The thick inch of froth on my drink was a little butterfly of joy. I swiped my finger through the foam and licked it clean.

"Suck anything else this weekend?"

I looked up from my beer into Kat's smiling face. I shrugged. "No. I spent all of Saturday and most of Sunday in my office."

Kat raised her beer and held it out for me to clink glasses. "To weekends you supposedly spent in your office, getting a tan and possibly sucking foam off of something, but you won't confess to any of it."

I shook my head as I clinked her glass and gulped several mouthfuls of the stout. Running my tongue around my lips, I cleaned off every drip of froth.

"Either I'm super horny or…well, there is no or. Everything you've done is sending out signals to every guy in this place to drag you to his place and fuck your brains out."

Someone already did
. "Don't know what you're talking about. Drink your beer."

She swallowed the amber liquid, then leaned in close. "See the guy in the brown sweater?"

When I lifted my head to turn in his direction, she hit my arm. "Not now. Wait. Okay now, look."

Casually looking left at the "Restrooms this way sign" I turned and glanced at the five men seated at the bar. Number three in the lineup was staring at me
or the photo of an Irish footballer over my head.

I picked up my glass and poured brewed malt with a hint of chocolate heaven into my mouth and swallowed. "I see him. What?"

Kat giggled. "When you licked your lips I think he got a hard on."

"Well, he can keep it to himself." I dipped my finger into the last of the froth and dragged it across my tongue. "Waitress."

The girl turned and stepped near the table. I pointed between Kat and I. "Another round."

"Kilkenny Irish for you right?"

Kat nodded.

"Back in a moment."

"Make you a deal." I picked up my drink. "We chat about the weather, new shoes, celebrity gossip. Anything that doesn’t have anything to do with me until we've finished our second drinks. If we're still standing, I'll tell you everything." Problem with a stout, you can't chug it. I swallowed another mouthful.

"Uh, just for clarification, we're sitting." Kat gulped the last of her ale and placed the glass near the edge of the table.

The drinks arrived. We chatted. Our second beers were replaced with our third.

Kat folded her hands around her glass and smiled. "Third beer and still sitting. Start talking."