Him and I Read online

  I’m here to sulk and drink and maybe, if I feel like leaving my room, to get a tan, not meet a new man. I’ve hardly had time to wash the stink of the old man off of my skin. I lock the door and pad across the room to the bed.

  I switch on the TV and switch it back off just as quickly when I find almost every show is in Spanish. I could follow along if I tried, but it’s too much effort. I need mindless entertainment or sleep, and since there’s no mindless entertainment, I opt for more sleep.

  An hour later, there’s a knock at my door again. I roll over and sigh tossing my arm over my eyes in the dark. Why? Why can’t I just be miserable in peace? I wait, hoping whoever it is will go away until it comes again.

  “Okay, I’m coming,” I shout irritated to be disturbed again.

  I open the door expecting Emilio and another persistent phone call, but it’s not him. It’s Roman dressed in black slacks and a white button-up shirt. More casual than an hour ago but still overdressed for a Mexican vacation resort.

  “You’re not dressed,” he says matter of factly while looking me up and down.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “We’re going dancing.”

  “No, you’re going dancing. I’m going to bed.”

  He looks thoughtful and shrugs, “I guess we could do that, too.”

  “What?”

  “Go to bed. But we need to eat at some point. I haven’t had anything since breakfast.”

  Is he? Can this guy be for real? He’s perfection in the looks department, but his big head could use a major adjustment. “That was not an invitation for sex.”

  “No? Sounded like it to me. Oh well, dancing it is.”

  “I can’t. I didn’t bring anything to wear.”

  “Ah, your fiancé was a dumb man.”

  I shake my head in confusion. “Well, yes, but why do you say that?”

  “You didn’t pack any clothes for your honeymoon. That’s the kind of wife I’d like to have.”

  “It isn’t like that. I knew I would be coming on this trip alone, and I wasn’t planning on doing anything while I was here.”

  “So you left him at the altar.”

  “Yes.”

  He smiles and mutters Savage under his breath. “Come.” He reaches out and takes my hand pulling me into the hallway.

  “Hey, what part of I’m not going anywhere do you not understand?”

  He pauses halfway down the hall. “No part of it because it’s bullshit. Come.”

  Too tired of arguing, I follow him to the lobby where he leads me into a women’s clothing boutique. “Sherry, could you help Ms. Savage with a dress and some shoes?”

  A slim, pale woman with lovely red hair rushes to greet us. “Good evening, Mr. Forrest. I have just the thing.” She looks me up and down. “Size four?”

  “Six but thank you for the compliment.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll be right back.” She disappears behind a red curtain, and I turn to Roman.

  “I appreciate the invitation but seriously, Roman, I just want to read my book and hang out alone.”

  “No.”

  “No? Who are you to tell me no?”

  “The man who is going to save you from two weeks of staring at four walls and boring yourself into depression.”

  I don’t care how beautiful he is, this man is infuriating. “Oh really? I happen to enjoy being alone.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  I feel the frown lines on my forehead deepen, and my skin flushes red with anger. “All right, I tried being subtle and soft, and it didn’t work so let me give it to you in a way you might understand. I found out my fiancé and best friend were fucking, and I want to be alone. I don’t feel like dancing, and I don’t feel like eating. I’m going back to my room, and I’m going to bed.”

  The saleswoman returns just in time to hear the last part of my explanation and her cheeks blush the color of her hair. My attention is on her, and I’m trying to think of a way to explain when I feel his strong arms sweep me off the ground. “Hey!” I yell and pound my fist on his chest. Dammit if he doesn’t smell like heaven and sin mixed together with a dab of sex and a pinch of perfection. I take a second to appreciate all that is male and sculpted on Roman’s chest before I continue my rant.

  “I don’t know where you’re from, mister, but where I’m from, men don’t manhandle women they don’t know. I take a deep breath for effect and to fill my lungs with him one more time before he drops me like a hot potato.

  “You’re misunderstanding, Ms. Savage. I’ve been listening loud and clear to what you’ve been saying, and now I am taking you back to your room.”

  I pause with my fist mid-air halfway to his chest again and look into his crystal gray eyes. “You’re taking me back to my room?” I’m embarrassed at the disappointment in my voice.

  “I am.”

  I frown at myself for wanting him. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he says with the twitch of his lip that says he’s trying not to smile.

  We reach my door, and it’s still open a small crack. He pushes it the rest of the way with his toe. It is still dark inside the room from my nap, but he crosses the floor as if he’s done it a million times and lays me on the bed.

  A sliver of light from the open door cuts across the rumpled sheets. He sits next to me the way my father used to do when he tucked me in at night. The familiar way he looks at me sets me off kilter. “Are you truly tired or are you trying to escape?”

  “What?”

  “You look like you’ve had plenty of sleep yet you want to go back to bed. That sounds to me like you’re trying to forget about something or someone and escape.”

  I turn my face away from him and clutch the sheets at my sides. He places his finger on my chin gently and guides my gaze back to his. “I’m on my honeymoon alone. Do I really have to explain?”

  “No, no you don’t unless you want to talk about it.”

  “I don’t.”

  “All right then. I’ll leave you alone tonight and let you sleep away the pain, but tomorrow is a new day, Ms. Savage, and I am going to make you forget your problems in a more productive and healthy way.” He reaches out to tuck my hair behind my ear, and I flinch. It’s not that I’m afraid, and I’ve never been abused, but his tenderness is unexpected. I’m not used to kind words and gentle caresses, especially when I’ve been so saucy.

  He turns his head to the side, and his expression darkens. “I’m not going to have to hurt someone for causing that kind of reaction, am I?”

  “No, I… I just don’t know you, that’s all.”

  “You’re smart to be cautious. I’m sorry for making that hard for you. I’ll be back in the morning at 8:00 a.m. Be rested and beach ready.” He leans down to press a kiss on my forehead, lingering longer than someone giving a chaste kiss should. And then he’s gone, and I’m restless wondering if I shouldn’t have just gone dancing.

  I am single after all. That’s going to take some getting used to. David and I were together for a long time, and I always assumed we would be forever. I’ve spent the past two weeks so focused on revenge and hating him I never really thought about what came after that.

  Maybe spending time with someone isn’t such a bad idea. Roman could be my distraction, my antidepressant, my rebound. I hate rebounds, they seem so unfair to the person being used. David used me for years, and I don’t like the way it feels. I’d hate to do the same thing even if it’s on a smaller scale. It’s hypocritical, and if there’s something I am not, it’s a hypocrite.

  When Roman arrives in the morning, I will be ready, but before we leave, I’m going to make it crystal clear that he is going to be my distraction and nothing more.

  Chapter 2

  So much for a good night’s sleep. I tossed and turned for hours before falling asleep right when the sun was coming up. No more naps for me.

  I finished showering and considered not braiding my hair when I remembered the way Roman
tried to tuck a piece behind my ear last night. I don’t want him to think I put it back on purpose although that’s probably a ridiculous thought. I slide a rubber band on my wrist for later on just in case.

  The mirror is not my friend today. She’s showing me all the rotten signs that I have recently been dumped. The dark circles under my puffy eyes, sallow skin, and the way my clothes hang loose after losing six pounds from stress. “Thanks a lot. You couldn’t just lie a little like the funhouse mirrors at a carnival?” I complain to my reflection adjusting the string on my bikini.

  A knock at my door takes me away from the rude mirror. “Just a second,” I call, rummaging through my suitcase that is open on my bed for a cover-up or a skirt that will match my black bikini. You’d think it would be easy to match with black, but my wardrobe is mostly Boho-chic and full of floral and geometrical patterns in vibrant colors.

  I settle on a tunic with a pale pink floral pattern and slide my feet into a pair of flip flops. He knocks again. “If you don’t open up, I’m coming in.”

  I pause halfway to the door. Coming in? He wouldn’t. He doesn’t have a key, and I have the security lock on the door. I got up to get a bottle of water around four-thirty this morning and made sure of it.

  I unlock the door and open it enough to see him, but no more. “And just how were you planning on getting in?”

  “Master key,” he says holding up a card that he most definitely was prepared to use.

  “And why do you have a master key?” I step back and place my hand on my hip opening the door wider in the process.

  “I bought the place an hour ago.” He slides the key card into the pocket of his khaki board shorts as if he hadn’t told me he purchased what I imagine is a billion-dollar, five-star resort.

  “You what?”

  “It’s a good investment. I heard owning a tropical resort was very lucrative.”

  I close my eyes for a second to process that. When I open them, he’s grinning. “So, you just heard that owning a resort was a good financial move, and you came down here and wrote a check?”

  “Yes. It was a wire transfer, though. Nobody uses checks anymore.”

  “You’re not kidding, are you?”

  “No, not at all. I was on the fence yesterday until I met you.”

  I place my hand over my heart. “Me? What do I have to do with it?”

  “Everything. I met you here. We’re going to need this place for anniversaries and family celebrations someday.”

  He checks his watch. “We need to get going. Juan is waiting on the dock with a boat.”

  I’m still reeling about the anniversary comment when my stomach growls loud enough for Roman to hear. I place my palm on my tummy and blush.

  “We’ll have breakfast on the yacht. Come.” He takes my hand and pulls me from my room.

  “Wait, my purse…”

  “You won’t need it.”

  “But my sunglasses.”

  “I have some.”

  “Sunscreen.”

  “Got it.”

  “Tampon,” I say trying to throw him off even though I’m not even on my period. He smiles knowing what I’m up to.

  “Do you need a regular or super? I have both.”

  “What the hell? Why do you have a supply of tampons?” He probably uses this routine on a dozen women a week. I’ll bet he doesn’t have two dimes to rub together. I sure hope he doesn’t think he’s getting anything out of me. I’m doing okay running my bookstore back in Chicago, but I’m not in any condition to be supporting someone else.

  “Preparedness is the key to success. I have the yacht stocked with everything that might be needed in any emergency, just in case.”

  “So, you’re a control freak.”

  He frowns, and I notice a scar on his right eyebrow. It puckers when he is unhappy. “I don’t like that term. It’s very negative, and I don’t think being prepared is a bad thing.”

  “Did you really buy this place or are you pulling my leg?” He leads me to the foyer of the building where we exit to find a snow-white Jaguar sports car waiting on the curb.

  “I really bought it, and if you’d like me to pull your leg, all you need to do is ask.” He drags his eyes down my body and winks, and I frown.

  “Why were you on the fence about buying it?” The valet hands him a set of keys, and Roman opens the passenger door for me. I settle in feeling naked without my purse. Even if I don’t need anything in it, a woman still likes to have her belongings close by.

  I watch him round the car and gracefully slide behind the wheel. His black t-shirt is tight around his biceps when he reaches out to adjust the mirrors and start the car. I find myself daydreaming of him with no shirt on and realize that soon that daydream will become a reality. Internally, I do a little jump for joy and remember my promise to myself to be clear about my intentions. I must say something soon, but it’s hard to decide on a good time to interject my lack of ability to commit.

  He guides the car out of the parking lot into the street effortlessly and heads toward the beach.

  “Initially, I was interested because no one I knew had ever heard of the Coconut Bay Resort. I wanted a challenge. After some in-depth research, I found it was becoming more and more popular which would make any other buyer jump on board. But I wanted to build things from the bottom up, instill my own brand, set the tone for a high-class resort. Does that make sense?”

  “Strangely, yes, it does. I did the same thing with my bookstore.”

  “You own a bookstore?”

  “I do, in Chicago.”

  “Chicago? I’m from Chicago, too. What’s it called?”

  “Savage Books.”

  His lip rises in a provocative smirk when I mention the name. “What’s with you and my name?”

  He shakes his head. “It’s sexy. Dirty thoughts flood my mind when you say it.”

  “I’ll try not to mention it then.”

  “Why on earth would you do that?”

  Ah, the perfect moment to clarify my intentions. “Roman, I’m flattered that you’re interested in me, but I want to make sure you understand I’m not looking for anything but companionship. I don’t want to lead you on. I just got out of…”

  He raises his hand to stop me from saying any more. “I understand. You just got out of a long-term relationship that went bad, and I won’t push you. But…”

  “Oh no, no buts.” He was doing so well, and then he went and threw a but in there.

  “But, I want you to be open-minded. If there were something between us, it would be a travesty to ignore it or reject it because of bad timing. You never know, Aria, we might be meant for each other.”

  “I don’t want to lead you on. You seem like a very nice guy.”

  “I’m not a nice guy, and you can lead me on all you want, I can take it. If you suddenly change your mind and don’t want anything to do with me, which will never happen, you say the word, and I’m gone.”

  “You’re very sure of yourself.”

  “I’m very interested in you.”

  I bite the flesh of my bottom lip and look out the window at the coast flying by. He is very interested in me. But, why? He’s clearly a very wealthy man. He could have anyone he wants and probably does. What could he see in a boring twenty-seven-year old gypsy bookstore owner from Chi-Town?

  He turns the car into a small lot with a path that leads to a small dock. “This is us. Wait here for a second.” He exits the car, and a short Mexican man meets him at the end of the dock.

  I watch them talk, and then the man turns to walk back down the dock, and Roman returns to the car to open my door. He takes my hand and helps me out like a perfect gentleman.

  “You’re not going to get me out to sea and take advantage of me, are you?” I ask wondering where my sense of self-preservation has gone. I’m about to leave dry land to go out on a boat in Mexico with a perfect stranger. Anything could happen. Anything.

  “Not unless you want me to. I had p
lanned on feeding you breakfast and taking you dolphin watching, but if you’d rather have me ravish your beautiful body all afternoon, I’d be happy to oblige.”

  “Dolphin watching is fine, thank you,” I say rolling my eyes but damn if I wouldn’t rather be ravished.

  He shrugs his shoulder. “Suit yourself. If you change your mind, let me know.”

  I chuckle, and he places his hand on the small of my back and leads me to the end of the dock where the Mexican man has a small boat waiting for us.

  “Juan, this is my friend, Aria. Aria, Juan.” I hold out my hand and shake his calloused one.

  “Hola, señorita, bienvenido.”

  “Mucho gusto, señor,” I say in my best high school Spanish accent. He smiles appreciating the attempt. I imagine him cringing inwardly.

  “Let’s get going, I’m hungry, and I know you are, too,” Roman says taking my hand to help me into the boat. The zing of electricity that flows between us makes my legs weak and a blush creep up my neck.

  Thankfully, Roman has a good hold on me, and it’s hot enough outside that I can blame my blush on the weather. “You okay?” he asks when I’m seated next to him on a bench seat.

  “Yes, it’s a beautiful day.”

  He looks around and back at me. “I hadn’t noticed. The only thing I seem to think about lately is you.” When he speaks to me, I feel like he’s drinking me in, absorbing every minute detail of my physical appearance as well as my emotions.

  “You’re a flirt,” I say looking out at the ocean that is now flying by. I remove the rubber band from my wrist and go about gathering my hair into a ponytail.

  Roman stops me and takes the rubber band from my hand. “Let me,” he says turning me by my shoulders to face away from him. Bending my knee, I pull it up onto the bench and wait apprehensively to find out what he’s going to do with my hair.

  David never touched my hair, not once in all the years we were together. He never tucked it behind my ear, smoothed it away from my face, and he certainly never tried to style it in any way.