Tropical Storm (3 page)

“Fire me?” His cousin burst out. “You
cyant
fire me. I’m family.”

“Watch me.” Cairo replied, but there was little strength to his words. Despite his posturing, Tyrone was a gentleman. “Just to teach you a lesson, if I like her, she’ll be mine to keep.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Tyrone said.

Cairo entered the solarium only to find it empty. He then
headed to the beach. If a guest had to wait more than two minutes for anything he always found them on the beach. He looked up and down the shoreline but didn’t see anyone. He wasn’t surprised. In Jamaica, tourists rarely woke before noon. The beach was deserted and for the moment he was alone. Cairo sat down on the warm silky sand
enjoying a rare solitary moment.

Unbuttoning his lightweight Calvin Klein shirt and rolling up his sleeves, he looked at the sea wishing, like it, he could do as he pleased.
He longed for comfortable jeans and the softness of well-worn sneakers. After all these years expensive clothes still felt foreign on him. He was a project kid. His adopted grandfather and his parents had slaved together in the same factory for twenty years. It was all they knew. It was all he knew before a summer job as a bellboy in an exclusive Manhattan hotel changed the direction of his life. He’d met Jessica Storm there and things had never been the same. He’d changed the way he spoke, the way he dressed and his entire life for her. The designer duds he wore now suited the man he’d become.

Flicking off the costly Berluti shoes, Cairo forgot what he’d initially come for. Whistling a reggae tune, he happily reveled in the opportunity to be by himself. He didn’t expect to have the beach occupied for a while so the burst of laughter startled him.

He spotted the young boy running wildly down the beach. His
high pitch squeals sent the birds flying off in protest. Cairo, who thought harmony had an intimate relationship with nature, saw what chaos could do. To someone else the image of a young boy laughing and running across the sand might not have been significant, but to Cairo it encompassed his whole history. How long had it been since he’d been that happy? When was the last time he’d felt so exuberant and free? He couldn’t remember. That fact depressed him. The boy’s colorful vibrancy mocked his own drab
black and white existence. There in front of him was all that his life had been missing,
happiness, laughter, and spontaneity. Cairo couldn’t look away.

“It’s great here, isn’t it?” The child said running up to him. “I think I’ll stay here forever and ever, how about you?” He finished breathlessly.

For a second Cairo couldn’t speak, he was bombarded with too many impressions. The child was like the sun; he was mesmerizing. Everything about him glowed, his sun-kissed golden skin, his bright tawny hair combined with the brightest green eyes Cairo had ever seen.

“What’s the matter, mister? Are you all right?” The boy asked unaware of his own magnificence.

Cairo forced himself to speak. “I’m fine.”

The boy looked skeptical. “Are you sure? You don’t look so good. You look like you just saw a ghost or something.”

Cairo shook himself. “I might just have.” He murmured as a feeling as distinct as a memory shivered down his skin.

“Where!” The child exclaimed whipping around expectantly.

Cairo smiled in spite of himself. “No, no, there are no ghosts here.”

“
Really
. . . ?” It was said with a bit too much innocence to be genuine.

Cairo’s grin widened. Leaning forward he stared into curiously familiar emerald eyes. “Tell me little man, what did you say your name was again?”

The child didn’t get to answer because a flash of radiance in the distance distracted them both.

She was a study in fire. Like a fast moving blaze, her hair streamed behind her like a burst of bright
yellow flames. She ran toward them,
her chest rising and falling with exertion. She could have been mistaken for a teenager, but the shapely curves of her
well-tanned body belied her age. She was extraordinary; her equivalent Cairo had encountered only
once before.

Time sped by or maybe stopped, Cairo wasn’t sure. In that moment all that was important to him was that she was coming closer. The ivory caress of her skirt brushed his thigh before his senses identified her for who she was. Even then he couldn’t believe his eyes.

She fell to her knees in front of the child and hugged him. She barely even noticed Cairo watching them his heart clenched in an almost forgotten pain. He thought he would never have to see her again, but there she was
—
Jessica . . . 
Storm.

“Shane! Don’t you ever wander away from me again! I was so worried.”

At her words, Cairo stood up abruptly drawing her gaze
to him.

“Thank you, sir, for taking care of my s—” She stopped abruptly as
their eyes met.

“Son? That was what you were going to say wasn’t it, Jessica?” The child looked about six years old. She’d wasted no time. The knowledge burned.

She froze for a second before a smile spread across her face.

It felt like she’d stabbed him; blood-red bitterness poured forth. He’d learned to control his emotions since his youth; however, so he
didn’t let his expression betray his feelings.

“Life’s funny, isn’t it, Jessica?” His tongue fumbled over the unfamiliar use of her first name. “The last time I saw you I was certain that I never wanted to see you again.” He turned to leave. “Nothing’s changed.”

“Cairo?” She reached for his hand, held on and wouldn’t let go.

Cairo felt the touch everywhere, starting at his toes, sending shock waves of sensation through his body and alarms going off in
his brain. None of this inner turbulence showed on his face. He cocked a brow, an affectation he’d learned from her butler Salvador on that fateful night. It worked; she released him.

She looked down at her son. “Shane sweetie, will you wait over there for me?” The child skipped away and she turned back to him. “Cairo, it’s been a long time. I’m glad to see you.”

“I wish I could say the same.” He said his mind already hard at work. How had she found him? If she’d come to Jamaica deliberately to see him then she was truly industrious. When he’d left New York City six years ago he’d covered his tracks well, leaving all connection to the city and its painful memories behind.

“I have to go.” He couldn’t wait to get away.

“Wait, can’t you stay and talk for a while?” she asked her gaze roaming over him, lingering on the changes that six years had made.

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” He said trying to be nonchalant.

“Maybe not, but I would like to talk to you
—
catch up if we can.”

“Catch up? Is that why you came here, to catch up?” The words came out harsher
than intended.

She didn’t answer.

“Jessica,” Cairo said, struggling not to shout.
It was getting easier to call her that now. “I have nothing to say to you. So if the purpose of your trip was for us to “catch up” then you’ve wasted your time.”

“You’re not the reason I came.” She responded flippantly. “Jamaica is the perfect place for a holiday.” The words came out smoothly but when his gaze pinned her, her lashes swooped down to hide her eyes.

“Lying still comes easily I see. Some things never change.” Cairo turned to leave.

“One question before you go.”

Cairo stopped but didn’t bother to turn around.

“Since when do you call me, Jessica? You never used to call me by my first name.”

He considered not answering. After all, what difference did it make now? Still, his own bitterness surprised him along with his sudden and immediate need to hurt her. He felt transported to the time six years ago and all he could remember was the damage she’d inflicted; it was his turn to inflict some damage of his own.

“Storm was an illusion, a figment of my imagination. In my heart she died six years ago in a motel room. She was the woman I loved and you killed her. Don’t ask me about her again. As far as I’m concerned, she’s dead and buried.”

Chapter Two

Tyrone stepped into the hotel’s managerial office and froze. He was in the Twilight Zone. How else could he explain the sight of Cairo sweeping the contents of his desk to the floor? His cousin was in a rage. Any other man witnessing the scene would have been alarmed, not Tyrone, he grinned. He’d missed this Cairo. That’s how long it’d been since he’d last seen his cousin lose his temper. In the six years since he’d settled in Jamaica, Cairo had tamed the boy who had come to the island enveloped by a black cloud and a “mess with me and I’ll kick your ass” New York attitude. Back then he’d been broken-hearted and bitter. For the first six months, he’d been so sarcastic and nasty that most people stayed out of his way. Since then, Cairo had changed
—
drastically. He was emotionless,
always calm and in control. Nothing in his life penetrated the hard protective shell he’d placed around himself—until now.

“Who
are
you?” Tyrone asked in a breathy stage whisper. Cairo whipped around finally noticing that he wasn’t alone. “What?”

“Who are you and what have you done with Cairo?” He repeated in mock terror making
the sign of the cross with his fingers.

The expression on Cairo’s face clearly showed that he wasn’t amused. Tyrone watched as he quickly closed the distance between them and
they were face-to-face and toe-to-toe.

“Ty, the early bird guest—” He began.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Tyrone cut him off.

Cairo grimaced at his words.
“She’s off limits.”

“What?” Tyrone doubted his ears.

Cairo said it slowly. “She . . . is . . . off . . . limits.”

Tyrone stared back at Cairo. “Wait a minute cuz, since when do you tell me what to do?”

“Since now,” Cairo said his voice edged in steel. “Stay away from her, Ty. That’s final.”

The raw look Cairo gave him froze the protest in Tyrone’s throat.

“What’s wrong
,
Cairo, what’s happened?” He asked his voice rising in alarm.

“It’s her.”

Tyrone didn’t ask whom. He didn’t have to. Cairo’s face told the tale.

Cairo felt like a pack of ravenous wolves were pursuing him. He was shaking with the effort to quell the
emotions he’d thought were long dead. He’d focused his mind on work and with determination he got a few things done. Yet the minute he relaxed the memory of his meeting with Storm sent his temper skyrocketing. He needed to calm down; his mind was racing with so many
thoughts and schemes to get her off his island that he couldn’t think clearly. He needed to relax and there was only one place on earth where he could do that. Putting aside his work for another day, he grabbed a change of clothes, his backpack and his sleeping bag and headed for the summit, not caring about the elements or threats of possible rain.

He stomped up the uneven path cursing as pebbles and rocks embedded themselves in his shoes. He slapped branches out of his face and tore a violent path through the vegetation that wrapped around his ankles and knees. He labored on even as his breath grew short from the walk up the steep mountainous incline. By the time he reached the top, his calves ached and he was gasping for air, but he didn’t care. Being there was worth it because it
would rid his mind of the earlier encounter with his ex-wife. He threw his sleeping bag down on the ground and threw himself down after it. He quickly took off his clothes and slipped between the folds. As was his custom, he concentrated on the sweeping azure sky above him, the birds singing in the trees, and the cool breeze blowing through the foliage
until his shoulders relaxed, his muscles unlocked and his mind calmed, but for only a moment as it quickly
crowded again with memories from the past.

Storm lay stretched carelessly across satin sheets. “Come here, sweetheart.” With a crooked finger she beckoned him forward.

Cairo didn’t hesitate. He went willingly. Despite his excitement, he didn’t rush. Although she seemed
unafraid, he knew she must be frightened. On her left hand a diamond no bigger than a grain of salt struggled to shimmer. He placed that hand on the naked planes of his chest. Storm looked up at him with wide unblinking eyes. He swallowed hard.

“Are you ready?” His eyes slowly roamed over her features. She smiled.

“I’ve been waiting for you all my life, Cairo. I don’t care what my parents think. You’re all I need. After tonight nothing can keep us apart. Come here.” She said opening her arms.

He touched her hair, kissed the curling tips, buried his face in the platinum mass and luxuriated in the feel of the silken curls touching his bare skin. Slowly, so he didn’t frighten her, he caressed her bare breasts mesmerized by the way his hand looked against the pale gold of her skin. He stroked her hesitantly. She shivered and closed her eyes. He kissed the closed lids, ran his hand down her face and touched her parted lips with his fingertips. Unexpectedly, she drew his finger into the warm cavern of her mouth. The texture and feel of her tongue stroking him released a moan from his lips. Her emerald eyes were warm with an emotion that Cairo knew was just for him. He pressed her further into the mattress and for the first time covered her body with his. She hugged him tightly and drew him closer when the feel of her nakedness beneath him made him tremble with excitement. He caressed her hip, kneaded her thigh, stroked her calf and drew her leg up to curl his hands around her toes.