Rage (15 page)

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Saffron on the control panel. He rolled his eyes and turned back to where Stephanie still stood, one hand over her ear and the

phone to the other.

“This has nothing to do with
him
.” She sounded like a defensive teenager as the words tumbled from her lips. Phillip felt his heart gallop. Sounded like lover boy had a chip on his shoulder about some other guy. He could relate to that, too.

Steph put a hand on her bare hip and looked up at the sky.

“Chris: Have I ever done anything to make you not trust me?”

She turned and looked directly at Phillip and he was thank-

ful for his dark Ray-Bans. He just barely heard her next words.

“Phillip and I are done. You know how much he hurt me.”

For the next three minutes, he tried to control his breathing,

convinced he would hyperventilate. He could not believe that she had made him out to be the villain. Especially after her backstage whoring with Clive. Phillip thought back to Steph saying that

Christopher thought it was a “good business” for her to move to

Europe. Wriggling doubt began to take hold of him, and he won-

dered if this “thing” with Christopher was going on before he

proposed to her. He heard her say “I think you’re being way too

emotional about this. I’m not going to sit and psychoanalyze this right now. I’ll call you later tonight” and hang up. He saw her

put her phone in her backpack. When she turned toward the

steps, he stood and headed after her.

She disappeared into the rock face ahead of him, and he

quickened his pace, sliding between the two rock walls; she must have heard his foot falls, because she turned back. Upon seeing

him her entire face flushed. Though she was ten feet from him,

he could almost see the wheels turning as she realized the only

way out of the narrow passage was up the rickety ladder or

through him.

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TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE

Stephanie slipped into the crack in the cliff and looked

ahead at the frightening medal ladder that stood between her and the best views on the island. She could hear the agitation in

Christopher’s voice. Coming here without him had been a mis-

take. His insecurities about her past with Phillip were at an all-time high, and she wasn’t sure how to explain how laughable

that was since Phillip was openly hostile to her. Now here she

was, stranded on Fantasy Island, her bed less than 250 yards

from his. She had to admit, if the situation were reversed, she’d be concerned.

She trudged forward, psyching herself up for the climb. It

seemed that Phillip really had put her out of his mind. He’d

completely ignored her on the boat and when she had caught him

looking her way, he’d either seemed annoyed or repulsed.

Though she knew she had no right to feel glum about that, it

irked her, like a pebble in her shoe.

She heard something move behind her in the dark space,

and she spun around. When she saw Phillip approaching her in

the narrow passage, she blew out a loud, exasperated breath. He

whipped off his sunglasses, and his eyes blazed as he dropped

them to the ground. He continued in her direction, his jaw

clenched; and his aggressive movements caused her to step back.

“Still breaking hearts, I see.” His words dripped with angst,

and the hostile look in his eyes caused her to drop her gaze. She realized a second too late that she was staring at his clinging wet trunks. It was impossible not to admire the way they revealed the perfect v that pointed directly to his groin like a neon sign. She knew all too well what those trunks contained and blushing furiously, she snapped her eyes back to his face. “What’s your tally up to, love?”

“Huh?” Steph took another step back. She hadn’t a clue

what he was referring to and was having trouble deciding wheth-

er she was more afraid or aroused.

His eyes felt like daggers as they raked over her. “Tell me

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the truth, Steph. Were you already shagging Christopher
and
Clive while you were with me? Is that why you said no?”

Steph gasped and felt a volcano erupt inside her. “What the

hell are you talking about? I wasn’t with anyone else when I was with you!”

“You know how I feel about you,” he mimicked her, and

she realized he’d been listening to her phone conversation. “Do

you say that to all your boy toys or just to the ones foolish

enough to declare their love?”

Steph fumed and wracked her brain in an attempt to under-

stand why he’d be talking about Clive. Finding no concrete an-

swer, she succumbed to her anger.

“Fuck off, Kersey. I don’t know why the hell I ever got

mixed up with you.” Her voice was icy and deathly quiet. She

realized she was shaking with rage and despair. There was no

way in hell she’d let him see her cry. She turned and realized

he’d back her up right to the ladder. She reached out for the closest rung, when Phillip grabbed her wrist. Steph yanked it away

and turned on him, livid and ready for war. He was close enough

that she could see the sweat glistening on his new tattoo.

“Don’t—”she started, but his hand was in her hair, and with

a rough tug, he pulled her face up to his. His eyes held her captive, and she tried to pull away from him, but he shook his head and tightened his grip near the nape of her neck. As his face

inched toward hers, alarms clanged in her mind. She tried to tell him to stop, but her voice box seemed to be out of order. She

sucked in a breath as she felt his other hand grasp her cheek pos-sessively. His mouth claimed hers and slowly grazed, teasing

and taunting her. Finally, his lips rested firmly in place, and he nibbled her bottom lip.

“Phillip.” His name was all she managed before her hands

raked through his hair pulling his mouth down hard onto hers.

She felt her body slam back into the warm steel of the ladder as his tongue forced its way between her teeth, lapping at hers. She 95

TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE

pressed back into him, standing up on her tip toes. She needed to get closer to him somehow, aching to close any infinitesimal distance still existing between them. She’d missed his salty taste so badly it hurt. His hands were on her ass, and he effortlessly lifted her off her feet. She cinched her legs instinctively around his

waist. His hand released its vice like grip on her hair and tugged on the string at her neck. The pink material of her bikini fell

away and she felt his fingertips—calloused from hours of play-

ing guitar—gently pinch her nipple. Phillip growled, and the vi-

brations of it sent a shockwave of desire shooting throughout her entire body. That growl of his always did her in. He used to

growl like that in her ear when they were out in public, and she’d instantly be wet and ready to go.

Steph clung to him, desperate to have him inside her. She

feverishly ground against him, and her arousal spiked as she felt his hand slip into the back of her bikini bottom and squeeze her ass. She moaned desperately against his tongue.

Suddenly she felt him remove his hands from her. His

mouth vanished from hers, and he was pushing her thighs

downward off of him. Steph stumbled, nearly falling to the sand.

She blinked slowly, dazed by the sudden disconnect. Gasping for

breath and shaking violently, she searched his face for an explanation. His features were rigid and emotionless. He stepped back from her and cocked his head to one side.

“Now do you remember why you got mixed up with me?”

He turned and swept his sunglasses up off of the ground. Then

he vanished through the opening of the crevasse.

Steph felt her knees give way, and she slid down the wall.

Lust and anger overwhelmed her. She was too confused by their

interaction to know whether to scream or burst into tears. The

sound of voices from above snapped her out of her dazed state,

and she scrambled to get her top tied just in time to see an old woman in flip flops and a muumuu appear on the ladder.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you ready to come up?” Madame

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Muumuu called down to her.

“Yeah.” She heard the trembling in her voice and hated

Phillip for it. She snatched up her backpack.

“Come on up. I’ll wait!” the woman replied. Stephanie

fiercely stepped forward. She discovered she wasn’t afraid to

climb the ladder anymore. What had seemed like a dangerous

proposition before was now a welcome escape.

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Steph waved to Cheyenne as the boat chugged away from

the beach. Though she couldn’t see her face from her vantage

point on the cliff, she knew Cheyenne was wearing a worried

scowl and probably popping a piece of nicotine gum in her

mouth. Steph had called her ten minutes before to say she was

staying behind for more photos and would find her way back to

the hotel. It wasn’t completely a lie; she did need more time at the beach. Mostly the thought of even looking at Phillip was un-bearable.

Cheyenne had started asking questions (damn journalists

and their inquiring minds), but Steph had cut her off.

“Just leave it alone, Cheyenne.”

“Steph. What the hell is going on?”

“I need some time alone.”

She’d spent an hour photographing the beach and kicking

herself for being such a little tramp. Her lips felt swollen and bruised from the intensity of their kisses. Remembering the ferocious way they used to greet each when they were still together, she felt like someone was squeezing her heart.

Desperate to get her mind off of Phillip, she joined

MuuMuu Mamma and her ancient husband Jorge on a trail hike

over to the next beach, Baia dos Porcos. MuuMuu was kind

enough to lend her a wide brimmed hat so that she wouldn’t end

up looking like a rock lobster by the end of the afternoon. She

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phoned her pousada and left a message at the desk for Cheyenne

that she’d be back later that night. That was when she decided to turn off her sat phone. She could not have a discussion with

Christopher—not right now. The guilt of her actions with Phillip and the way in which she’d willingly thrown caution to the wind

was eating at her. She kicked herself, waffling between feelings of shame and confusion. She simply wanted to put the entire

matter out of her head. What she really needed was retail therapy and a healthy serving of booze. She had absolutely no desire to

see or speak to anyone that reminded her of Phillip, which in-

cluded all of Fury and Cheyenne by association.

After two hours at the second beach, she’d exhausted her

supply of sunscreen and insect repellant. She was convinced this beach was the more beautiful of the two. The dramatic rock formations were far more stunning, and its rough, natural rugged-

ness appealed more to her then the traditional white sands of the previous, more heralded beach. Unfortunately, all that time alone rapidly backfired, and soon she was sliding down the rabbit hole and day-dreaming about Jonquil.

Jonquil. It’s what she’d named her daughter. She’d been in

Paris for two days when Dr. Lucky Charms called her with the

results of the genetic testing. It was great news by all accounts, he claimed. You have no STD’s, and by the way, your baby was

perfect. It wasn’t deformed, no genetic anomalies. She was just

in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She.

Somehow this news propelled Stephanie into grief all over

again. Hearing that her baby had been healthy and normal, in

many ways, made it worse. Knowing it was a girl put a face on