Sex and Key Lime Pie

Chapter
One

Cheyanne Dupree stood atop the cliffs and glanced at the rocky Rhode Island coastline below. Sea green water stretched across the blue horizon. She inhaled the salty sea air. God, she loved this view. It was the only thing about Mystic Cove she had missed in the last nine years. At least, the only thing she would admit to. From here everything looked the same. But time and circumstance had changed both her and the cove.

Most of the changes were for the better. For one thing, she wouldn’t see Harlan Waitley’s name attached to every building in the town center. In fact, Cheyanne had only returned to clear out the last visible reminder of her stepfather’s existence: the Waitley mansion in
Mystic Heights. Her mother, newly remarried and on an extended honeymoon, had sold the house and asked Cheyanne to take care of selling the contents before the buyer took possession. Her first inclination had been to refuse.

After nine years of clinging to the past, she needed to let go. She had a new life, a wonderful job opportunity awaiting her in
California at the end of the summer and most important, her son Sam. She smiled. Sam was the joy of her life. She still questioned her decision to send him to sleep-away camp at only eight years old, but he’d wanted to go to the Tae Kwon Do camp so badly that he’d saved his allowance for a full five months. Gone one day, and she missed him already. How would she survive two weeks? Especially in Mystic Cove?

Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Her nerves had been too raw. She needed to move on, and she would never do that until she let go of the past.

She got back in her car. Not her car, exactly. The classic ’62 Corvette had belonged to her late husband. As she navigated the vehicle down the winding road to the town below, she tried not to let sentiments overwhelm her. She would be arrogant to believe she’d left as much of an impression on the people here as they had left on her. Hell, most of them had probably forgotten her. She wished she could say the same.

She entered the business district as the clock tower on the bank struck three o’clock. The town center was just as she remembered yet completely different. Many of the stores remained the same, but the names had changed for the better. Waitley Lumber was now Manny’s Lumber. Mario Santori had taken over Waitley’s Department Store. New buildings had gone up. Others had been refinished to keep the quaint feel of the old port town. All in all, the new proprietors reflected the predominately ethnic population better than when Harlan had left his mark on everything and everyone.

Despite her hunger, Cheyanne drove past several restaurants along the waterfront and continued to the outskirts of town. New housing developments and strip malls revealed how much Mystic Cove had changed. It wasn’t long before paved streets gave way to a dirt path. Potholes lined the street.

At the end of the road sat a wooden cabin. The last rays of the evening sunset bathed the small structure in a halo. Appropriate, she decided, since she had once considered this place heaven on earth. Back when it had been their place—hers and Luc’s little love shack. Ten years ago to the day, she lost her head and her heart to Luc Allesandro, right there in that tiny house that had seemed like a mansion. Six months later, she had inherited a fortune and lost everything that mattered to her.

****

Luc Allesandro sat in the old cane chair near the fireplace. The musty smell of damp wood permeated the room. He tilted the chair back. The distant sound of the ocean pounding the shore echoed his stormy sentiments. The broken-down shack had been the only bequest from his father; the place where he’d been conceived. One final insult to a lifetime of injury against his mother. He hadn’t been to the cabin in years, but he knew what drew him here tonight. And he knew, even before he heard the footsteps on the front landing, before the motion detector activated the outside light, that he would not be alone.

Cheyanne remained for several minutes on the stoop. Twenty feet, and nine years separated them. He grew impatient as she paced the wooden boards. What was she waiting for? He wouldn’t be surprised if the little coward turned tail and ran before coming in.

He swallowed a groan. When he was honest with himself—which wasn’t often lately—he knew that much wasn’t true. She had never run from a confrontation in her life. Their affair had proved that. She thrived on conflict. And that very passion for conflict brought her here tonight. Cheyanne Dupree was back in town and he couldn’t avoid her, so he’s might as well get the reunion over with.

Finally she opened the door. His body tensed. The light from behind cast an ethereal glow, but there was nothing heavenly about her. She was his private Hell. Had been since the moment he first laid eyes on her. From the day Harlan brought Cheyanne and her mother to town, she’d been a torment to him in one way or another. Some ways had been more pleasurable than others, he remembered with a cynical grin, but a torment nonetheless.

She hovered in the doorway for a long moment. As she took a tentative step inside, he switched on a lamp, flooding the room with light. Her startled gasp echoed around the nearly empty cabin. She jumped back, hitting the wall behind her with a pained yelp. Her panicked gaze darted around the room until resting on him. Recognition dawned and with it, a glare of fury. Even pissed off, she looked magnificent. All blue eyes and attitude.

“You scared the hell out of me,” she muttered and shoved at the strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail.

He drew up in front of her, cornering her before she could dart out the door. “Why?”

“I didn’t expect you to be here.”

The hell you didn’t! Since he owned the property, he found her excuse laughable. But there was nothing amusing about the way her unique scent turned his body rock hard. The heady combination of perfume and sweet summer sweat that made her skin glisten in the muted light, got to him as easily now as when they were younger. Even dressed in loose fitting jeans and a plaid shirt, she out-classed any other woman he’d known, past or present.

“Strange. I knew you’d show up.”

She tipped her head up defiantly. “And if I didn’t?”

He shot her a knowing grin. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

“God, you’re still so damn arrogant.” She exhaled slowly, her warm breath wreaking havoc with his hormones.

“No. Just right.” He moved closer, just short of touching her, but heat radiated from her as if their bodies were entwined. She’d matured physically over the years, but it only made her more desirable. “Now why is it, you felt the need to visit our little love nest, Cheyanne?”

“Not to see you.”

“You’re trespassing on my property. What am I supposed to think?”

“Like always, you’ll think what you want.” She tried to edge past him. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll leave.”

“Don’t.” He cuffed his fingers around her slender wrist, forbidding her retreat. Her skin was silky smooth, her pulse racing. The touch had an elevating effect on his heart rate as well. Adrenalin, testosterone, and a raging case of lust. Nothing more. “You came for a reason.”

“Not the one you seem to think.”

“I don’t think anything where you’re concerned, sweetheart. So, why are you here?”

Drawing herself up to her full five and a half feet of height, she met his gaze. “I was looking for something I lost here a long time ago.”

“Your virginity?”

She recoiled as if he had slapped her. “You know what, Luc? I don’t need this. Especially not from you. If you’ll excuse me...”

He placed one hand above her shoulder on the wall and whispered against her ear, “What do you need from me?”

“Nothing.” Her body trembled. “I’m sorry I burst in on your sacred shrine. I didn’t realize this place still meant so much to you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Rushing home to your husband?”

Sorrow flashed in her eyes, and then just as quickly, her stare turned cold. “No.”

“How come?”

She pressed her palm against his chest to push him back. “Please move.”

“You dumped him?”

“Move.” She shoved again, this time harder. He stepped back.

“He dumped you?” he asked with a chuckle.

She expelled an exasperated grown. “Are you interested in the intimate details of my marriage, Luc?”

“Not really. I was just being friendly.”

“Don’t bother. We were never friends. We were two people who happened to have sex, as you so clearly pointed out our last night together. You didn’t mean any more to me than I did to you.” She walked out the door, head held high. Her blonde ponytail swung across her shoulders as she moved. He watched the gentle sway of her hips until she disappeared into the darkness.

He had to get out of the cabin himself before the memories choked him. Memories of nights filled with passion. Making love to Cheyanne in every conceivable and inconceivable way. She’d been innocent back then, but an overly eager student. He taught her well, and she learned fast. And when she had enough money to get out of town, she left to share her newfound sex education with another man.

You didn’t mean any more to me than I did to you. She didn’t tell him anything he hadn’t already told himself a thousand times. So, why had her statement felt like a kick in the gut?

****

Cheyanne pulled over to the side of the road and parked beneath a street lamp. Her body shook so violently she could barely hold the steering wheel. She should have known better than to go to the cabin. Even without Luc’s presence, she wasn’t ready to revisit the past. His appearance had made it worse.

She never expected him to be there. On their ‘anniversary’, no less. Perhaps it was better that they got that inevitable first meeting out of the way with no one else around. Now, she knew the score. He still hated her. She expected that. But she hadn’t expected to still feel drawn to him when he cared nothing about her.

Deep calming breaths restored her composure but couldn’t suppress the aching in her heart. As a young man, Luc had been arrogant, angry, and brooding. Time intensified those qualities. He had also been incredibly sexy and that too had intensified over the years. How could just the smell of him cause her body to throb? How could she still have any feelings for a man who hurt her so badly? She’d gone to the cabin looking for the heart she had lost, but she would never get it back.

She shouldn’t still want him. By now she should be over him. Maybe she would get over him if she allowed herself to have a healthy relationship. Marriage to a man with no interest in her sexually had been safe, comforting. Pierre had needed an American wife for a green card to work in the United States, and she wanted a French husband for the same reason. But the platonic union had been nothing more than a business arrangement that allowed her to hide from a passionate relationship. Instead she put all her energies into Sam.

Thoughts of her son calmed her frazzled nerves. For his sake, she had to remain strong. She slumped into the bucket seat. Sam had a lot of his father in him, more than just their dark, handsome looks. He was proud, stubborn and oh, so good at hiding his feelings.

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. Where was she, anyway? Her only thought had been to get as far away from the cabin as possible and she hadn’t cared where she was driving. Thorny shrubs edged the road. Beyond, dirty white bungalows with faded black trim lined the clearing like old dominos. The sign at the entrance, overrun with weeds, read Camp Wah-Ta-Wah. She’d worked at the summer camp for several years as a counselor while in high school. Now all that remained were rundown buildings, left to crumble like her young dreams. It was one more glaring reminder that you can’t go home again.