Ocean of Love (12 page)

There was a knock at the door. He called
out, “Yes, please enter.” He forgot his frustration for a second.
“I get the impression they hover outside.”

She laughed. Her voiced sounded teasing.
Sultry. She clasped her hand over her mouth then whispered. “Me
too. Standing outside, I wondered.”

The waiter wheeled a cart with their dinner.
“I ordered the chef’s creation. A special meal for two. I forgot
that tonight was Valentine’s Day when I invited you out
tonight.”

Her lips did that same little move and
formed a magical “O” again. She hadn’t remembered. No boyfriend,
and neither was she set back that tonight was the official couple’s
night out. He leaned back in his chair, pleasantly surprised by her
reaction.

“
From soup to nuts, so it
seems.” Her eyes widened as the dishes were placed upon the table.
He didn’t reveal how he’d requested that the chef prepare a meal
rich in seafood; actually, he’d given the kitchen a precise menu,
based on what he believed would interest her.

“
Pass me your plate,” he
said into her shocked gaze. “You said you wanted to work. Well I
can’t have you lightheaded because you’re hungry. Plate.
Please.”

“
I should help. You can’t
be expected to do all the work.”

“
Tell me my options on each
piece of property. You can do your job and I’ll do
mine.”

“
Well, okay.” She
hesitated, then launched into the purchase prices and comparison
properties from recent sales. She proposed what she believed were
fair offers including financing options for the required
construction loans. She’d been successful in getting each property
price lowered with the contingency of an executed contract by
midnight. Marissa cocked her head in the most delightful way each
time she wanted to draw his attention to a detail in the
report.

He served her a sampling of fresh oysters,
steamed mussels, ceviche, grilled lobster in plantain leaves, and
broiled mahi mahi prepared with lemon and butter. He came around
the table and set the plate in front of her.

She settled back in her chair. “Thank you.
Everything looks delicious.” The breeze moved curling wisps of her
golden hair along the skin by her face and neck, and he longed to
place his mouth on her neck again.

“
Shall we try the white
wine?” he asked, picking up different bottle that sat chilling in
an ice bucket in the corner.

“
More wine? I’ll be under
the table if we keep this up.” Marissa’s delicate features were
cast in the metallic glow of the chandelier and candles.

“
Mineral water then?” he
asked, mentally contradicting her. He wasn’t about to let her fall
asleep early this evening.

“
All right, fine. Just one
glass since it’s white.” She glanced up at him with a mischievous
tinge in her eyes.

He poured the wine, relishing how much she
amused him. Then he sighed and returned to his seat. Opening his
napkin, he observed the delicate ministrations of how she sliced
her food and lifted her fork.

“
Is your family from
Europe?” he asked. “I mean from the way you eat.”

“
Yes. Scandinavian
heritage.” She licked the butter from her lips. Wiping her face,
she murmured, “Mmm, the fish is so flaky. It melts in my mouth.”
She drew up the corners of her lips into a coy smile, stoking his
arousal.

He stabbed a fork into a portabella
mushroom, preferring to take in the sight of Marissa enjoying her
meal. If only he could move closer to her, close enough to inhale
her fragrance and touch her hair. Not a single solution came to
mind.

“
No questions so far? I’m
prepared for even the most outside-the-box concerns,” she
murmured.

Rapidly, the neurons in his brain sparked.
That’s it. He’d play the idiot savant. “What do I have regarding
the City’s zoning issues to battle? The lot next door is designated
as parking. Owned by the beach?”

She flipped through the folder on the side
of her plate and held out the section. “Go to page nine.”

He pretended to miss her
point by refilling their water glasses. His thirst was
unquenchable. She was the delectable dish he feasted his eyes
upon.
Marissa
, he
silently rolled her name around his tongue.

“
Where is that point?” He
feigned confusion, peering at his report, and got up. “I don’t
think my report is the same as yours.” He came to her side of the
table, report in hand, and bent over her. “Where are you seeing
that?”

She pointed to her report.
“Third paragraph from the top. In the text box entitled
Seller’s Requirements
.
The bullet points for
Camile Avenue
Lot
.”

“
Show me. I still can’t
find that section.”

She repeated her answer for a second time,
and he wondered how much more her patience would endure.

“
No wonder. I’m on the
wrong page. Do you mind? I think it would be more productive if we
were facing the same direction. Then you wouldn’t have to stop and
point, showing me each detail.” He contained his laughter when she
glanced over the top of her glasses, flustered, and shook her head,
picking up her wine glass.

“
Fine. Yes, that might help
with getting through the information.”

He pulled up a chair next to her, report
tucked under his arm. Unusual seating, but he took advantage of the
opportunity to sit as close as possible. The table was four feet
across, set with candles, serving dishes, and flowers—a bounty that
separated them.

For his purposes of
investigation
, he needed
to be within twelve inches of Marissa as she innocently gave her
presentation. He wanted to observe the change in her breathing and
matched his respiratory pattern to hers. Wyatt mirrored her in the
way she oriented her body, and even by the movement of her hands as
she rubbed her forehead or leaned on her palm. He casually noted
her facial features, but he was really learning to read the varied
and layered messages she delivered by noting what he did that
resonated and relaxed her, and especially what made her smile, or
better, laugh.

He wiped his mouth after sampling the plate
of fresh mozzarella and sliced tomatoes. “I don’t know why fresh
basil reminds me of anise.”

“
Anehole
.”

“
Excuse me? What did you
just call me?”

“
No.” Her eyes widened as a
shade of vermillion crept up her neck. “Do you like black licorice?
Some cultivars or types of basil have an organic compound similar
to anise and
root of
Glycyrrhiza glabra
, or licorice.
”

“
And you know this?
Because?”

“
My mother kept a garden,
herbs mostly, and I helped when I was very young. So, yes or no?
Licorice?”

“
I did as a kid. Gorged
myself on
Good-n-Plenty.
”

A deeper color suffused her cheeks,
different from before, from the moment she began explaining her
interest in botany and a wide-eyed-doe expression overtook her
features. He remembered her pain about the loss of her family and
that this memory was one of a child and her mother. Carefully, he
moved his hand to her fingers, gripping the edge of the table. He
didn’t touch her. He put aside his want to take her in his arms,
breathe in her scent, and kiss away the tender spot from her soul
by listening to her talk.

She finished with, “Well, then you have your
answer.”

He nodded, offering her a smile. For a
moment, they sat in silence, sans the sounds of music from far off,
the din of the waves, and the movement of the sea breeze coming
into and out of the dining compartment. He sat mesmerized by the
pulse at the base of her neck. He mentally tabulated the time it
would take to finish this meal, move her car, and get her upstairs
and naked. He wanted all of her. Not simply the physical part that
was bone-shattering beautiful, but the part of her that she kept
locked away.

“
Well, I’m stuffed. We
still have dessert?” she asked as her gaze swam around his
face.

“
Crème brûlée. Sweet.
Decadent.” He chipped the caramelized crust of browned sugar and
dipped his spoon into the vanilla custard.

She opened her lips to him. To transfer the
spoonful of brûlée into her delicate mouth required every ounce of
concentration on his part.

He ran his thumb over the edge of her bottom
lip, where a drip of the brown sugar syrup lingered, unable to find
a way to shave off minutes until he’d savor her mouth. “Would you
care for a cup of coffee or tea? Nothing to unnerve you.”

“
Coffee. The nectar of the
gods and brokers. Thank you. Do you partake at night?” she
asked.

“
Yes. And a cigar if it
doesn’t offend you. So there is something you enjoy that does not
come from the ocean. Coffee. Anything else?”

“
I might join you in your
cigar.” Her brow arched seductively. The first sign she overtly
presented a nuance that was anything but all broker. Immense
satisfaction stirred within him by her relaxation and
teasing.

He motioned to her glass.
“I’d say you deserve a whole box of
Cohibas
.”

He’d poured his concentration into following
her report for the last hour and scraped by asking a few
intelligent questions. She could now accept his bid. He’d gone
through the brokering steps until she was convinced she owned this
sale. No question in his mind, she’d done her job. That was the
least he could do for her so long as they were going down the same
path, toward his bed. There was no argument. He was all alpha male
when it came to her. Enough was enough. It was time.

“
No more wine. I won’t be
able to see straight,” she said.

“
Right. We couldn’t have
that now, could we?” No, he didn’t want her inebriated. Not with
what he intended to do with her. He tapped the folder that housed
the property reports. He’d done himself proud. “Don’t I need to
sign a committal and a good-faith note?”

“
Yes. There are a set of
hard copies at the end of the reports. I’ve got the digital on a
tablet in my car.”

Chapter Nine

Wyatt’s deal had been more than a real
estate decathlon. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts.
Heading down the corridor toward the restroom, she bumped into a
small woman.

“
I’m so sorry. Please
excuse me,” Marissa said.

“
Don’t go out there
tonight.” The white haired woman said. “No good. Not tonight. No
ocean … no swim.”

“
Excuse me?” Marissa
shivered.

Fingers caressed her elbow. “Is there a
problem?” Wyatt’s voice and body radiated warmth into Marissa,
easing the chill that had overtaken her.

The lady remained firmly planted before
them, her strange, amber eyes unrelentingly piercing into
Marissa.

“
Nothing,” The woman ducked
her head a couple of times. “I was mistaken.” She wiped the air in
front of her face and peered at Marissa, staring with luminous
eyes.

Without thinking, Marissa leaned back
against Wyatt. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered to him.

There was no mistake in the woman’s attempt
to warn her. The woman’s fingers tightly gripped Marissa’s wrist.
The strange chill turned into a jolt, stabbing the pit of her
stomach, turning her middle sour with a fit of cramps. The stirring
made her want to clasp her hands over her ears, the way a
high-pitched screech affected her.

“
Are you ready?” Wyatt
asked, pressing the small of her back.

She nodded, gazing up into his face. “Yes,
very much.”

“
Good evening ma’am.” His
tone was cutting. He came around to her side, gently pulling on her
arm. She stepped back to get the woman to stop touching her. A line
of scorching heat scattered up Marissa’s spine. Icy-hot. Prickly
beads of sweat covered the space between her shoulder blades and
over her chest.

Wyatt stepped between the woman and her. He
pressed his mouth into a tight line, taking her hands between his
palms, rubbing his hands over hers. “Your skin is freezing. Maybe
some warm water.”

“
Sounds inviting. I’d like
to go wash my hands.”

“
Let’s go find the
restroom.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. She leaned
against him, letting him guide her to the ladies
restroom.

The woman mumbled something
unintelligible, and bent down, retrieving a bin of silverware. The
woman shuffled down the hall toward the kitchen without turning
back. Apparently she one of the kitchen staff. And in error.
Wasn’t she?

“
Are you alright? You look
pale,” he said.

“
I’m more than fine. I’ll
be right out.” Marissa slipped into the empty restroom, and then
leaned up against the door.

That was a first. And she hoped, the last
time she’d experience such a creepy sensation—a cross between food
poisoning and a hang-over. She repeated several rounds of deep
breaths to clear the strange stirrings from her already
overstimulated body. This evening had yielded the results she had
always craved in the world of business within Apex Realty. In a
moment, Wyatt would submit his bid and she’d be free to unwind and
kick back.