Falling (7 page)

His gaze landed on Jen. "Even the youngest among us needs to be reminded that life, when all is said and done, is more than a career, a paycheck or a promotion. It's about opening a door to your heart and letting someone inside, taking a chance, and knowing it's the biggest gamble of all." He nodded briefly at her. "You may end up bloody and ripped apart, but then again, you may end up in a place of miracles and joy. Whatever the outcome, at least you'll have tried."

Shit, this guy was a mind reader as well as a golden-age standup comedian.

Despite her astonishment at his words, she smiled and joined in the applause as he took a dramatic bow. He must have been that company's best salesman. After listening to him, she firmly believed there were Eskimos somewhere wearing flip flops he'd sold to them.

The crowd mingled, laughed, chatted and headed for the bar. Jen hung back a little, only to feel Palmer's hand at her elbow. "Join us?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Thanks, but not tonight. It's been a long day, my first here at the hotel. I need a good night's sleep to get my vacation on track."

"I understand, my dear." He grinned. "We, on the other hand, need at least two or three more drinks."

"I enjoyed your talk, Palmer. Very much." It was nothing but the truth.

"That's nice of you to say."

"No really. I did. You made some valid points and gave me a lot to think about."

He tipped his head to one side. "I have a feeling you're worrying about something. So I'll let you go and rest. But think about this, lovely girl. Sometimes the heart knows what it wants better than the head." He tapped her lightly on her nose. "One last thing I'll share with you that I ask you keep to yourself."

She tilted her head to one side, curiosity aroused. "Of course."

"My wife? His name was Andrew. The nicest person I've ever met. The most wonderful man who blessed me with his presence for all those years." His smile was beautiful at that moment, glowing and filled with the love he obviously would always feel toward his mate. "Good night."

She blinked. "Good night…" And watched him head purposefully toward the bar and his friends.

Wow
.

Love, it seemed, continually defied description. It could not be predicted, dictated or confined into rules of any kind. Palmer was the perfect example.

Alone, at the side of the now-quiet lounge area, Jen glanced outside and noticed the moonlight touching the flowers with gentle rays. It was magical, and strangely beautiful. Lured by the wonder of it, she moved through the open doors and decided to cross the pool area, taking the side door back to her room rather than traversing the lobby to the main elevators.

It gave her the chance to gather her thoughts, to sort out her mind as she strolled through the gentle night air.

Palmer had nailed it when it came to her. She
was
worrying, and she was here to make some difficult decisions. Already Cris had complicated matters, but he was an exciting complication, one she was eager to explore.

Her fingertips grazed the petals of a massive hibiscus, looking surreally blue now in the odd painted hues of a Florida night. She sighed and then squared her shoulders. Tonight she'd do her best to sleep. There'd be time enough over the next couple of days to sort everything out.

Her resolution held until she opened the door to her room and walked in-to find a single perfect pink orchid in a vase on her desk. Next to it was a tiny box with four mouthwatering truffles in it and a printed note.

"
I had hoped to spend this evening with you. My apologies, mi Tesoro. From now on, I am yours to command. If that would please you
.
Sleep well
."

It was signed with a single letter,
C
.

Jen surrendered to impulse and re-read the note, then held it against her breasts. It was absurdly romantic and thrilled her to her core, even though it had come from a printer. He was away from the hotel but had remembered her. The flower, the chocolates…delicious, decadent and absolutely delightful. She'd never been treated so indulgently, and although it was straight out of a cheesy romance novel, it couldn't have touched her more.

The flower was unique, over-the-top perfection in pink petals. The chocolates-she permitted herself just one-were a symphony of flavors melting seductively on her tongue. And the note she still cradled in her hands was the most erotic communication she'd ever received.

David had never written her a love letter. Or a note like this. His gifts were always signed "Love, D." That was it. Nothing else.

But Cris wanted to please her and called her his treasure. That was swoon-worthy all by itself.

She giggled, an odd and effervescent bubbling of sound from her lungs. No two ways about it, that was a real, honest-to-God giggle, and she loved the feel of it tickling her throat. It had been a long time since anything had made her giddy enough to giggle.

But a man she barely knew had managed it.

Finally, she put the note down carefully, smoothed a pink petal and closed the box of chocolates with a little sigh of regret. If she was going to spend more time in a swimsuit, polishing off designer chocolate truffles might prove to be a really bad idea, so she tucked them out of sight in the min-fridge.

Finally slipping in between the crisp sheets, she turned off her bedside lamp and realized the moonlight was coming in at just the right angle to illuminate that orchid.

Had he known? She wouldn't put it past him. He was
that
kind of man. Dramatic, probably passionate…mmm. She just bet he'd be a nuclear explosion in bed.

Stretching languorously, she closed her eyes, the image of the flower dancing through her thoughts of Cris, naked and poised above her.

She shivered, lost in a fantasy of ecstasy, aroused by her thoughts but soothed by them as well.

She was woman. He was man. With luck, nature would take its course to the inevitable conclusion. Perhaps tomorrow…

Chapter 9

Friday arrived in a blaze of sunshine. Which was no surprise, since most August days in Florida arrived that way. Local meteorologists tended to schedule their vacations around this time, usually in places like Alaska, Australia or the South Pole. They returned just in time for the kickoff of hurricane season in September, when things might possibly get a little more interesting than endless days of highs in the nineties, lows in the eighties and humidity levels that made ants sweat profusely.

Jen slept in a little, waking to cool air and bright light, a pleasant combination. She made coffee, grimaced at the taste, then took a leisurely shower. She'd noticed several tours being offered by the hotel, and wondered if they might be of interest.

Waiting around to see if Cris contacted her…well, that wasn't really her style. Besides it would mean too much thinking, and right now she wanted just a bit of simple vacation time, doing tourist things, going to tourist places-being a tourist.

He'd left her a lovely message last night, but she knew he was a busy man. With luck they'd have the evening together, but if she didn't make any plans for the next few hours, she would be reduced to haunting the lobby while he did whatever it was that needed doing.

Not appealing. It was, after all, supposed to be her vacation.

The tour desk was manned by a sprightly lad who extolled the virtues of the local swamp boats-they gave the Everglades a run for their money-an all-day trip to St. Augustine, oldest city in the Continental USA apparently, and the jaunt to the Sunshine Aquarium, a four to five hour trip allowing for lunch with dolphins. Or something.

Jen didn't ask if it was tuna sandwiches. She bet herself that someone would, though, before the end of the day.

However, a ride in an air-conditioned coach to an air-conditioned aquarium and several hours surrounded by presumably air-conditioned, or at least cool and wet, fish…yeah. That would work.

She scrawled her name on the passenger list, signed the credit slip, pocketed the obligatory brochure and found herself on her way before she'd had chance to dig her sunglasses out of her bag.

The coach was small, but not crowded, and she had a seat to herself. Staring out at the rather monotonous Florida landscape, she indulged in a silent mental lecture.

Running away. That's what she was doing. Avoiding the hotel and avoiding the man who had vanished last night and yet left her a gift that had raised her spirits and warmed her dreams.

Maybe it wasn't exactly running away; maybe it was more a buying-time strategy, giving her chance to really contemplate whether she wanted to go to bed with him.

Okay, cut the bullshit, kid. You want this guy. No holds barred. And you know the sex will be outstanding
.

That annoying little voice was right.

Sometime between going to bed last night and sitting here in the coach this morning, she'd accepted her…her need. Her desire.

Her want.

Cris
.

Now all that was left was to decide on the when and the where. And those details should probably include the man himself who might have a few ideas of his own.

*~*~*~*

Where the
hell
was she?

Cris paced, checked, walked the ground floor of the hotel at least a dozen times and double-checked the pool every time. His staff exchanged knowing glances and attended diligently to their work.

He'd already checked with housekeeping, only to learn from Maria on five that the guest in Room 522 had apparently gone out somewhere, and the room was already serviced. Yes, her belongings were still there.

The trip desk had closed after the last tour had departed, but when the station reopened after lunch to start making arrangements for the next day, Cris hurried over, drumming his fingers on the counter as he waited for Paul. He had the man's password of course, but didn't believe in undermining any his employees by opening up their software without their permission. Or at least their knowledge. Today, however, it was damn close…

"Hey boss."

"Paul. Where have you been?" Cris frowned, then waved his hand. "Never mind. I need to see the tour bookings. Pull them up for me would you?" He nodded at the flat screen monitor.

"Uh, sure." Paul hit keys and the schedules appeared.

Cris almost pushed the young man out of the way in his eagerness to read the names and it was with an audible sigh of relief his finger stopped three quarters of the way down on the third screen.

"
Madre de Dios
.
Fish
."

"You okay, Boss?"

Cris straightened and grinned. "I am now." He slapped the concierge on the back, nearly knocking him into the keyboard. "Fish. Who knew?"

He strode away, not noticing the dropped jaw or stunned expression of the young man behind the desk.

He'd found her. She hadn't left him.

The nagging fear she'd run away, gone, disappeared into the vastness of the Florida landscape or worse-gone home to New England-well, that had been an increasingly crushing worry.

But she hadn't. She'd gone to see some fish.

Hell, he could have shown her fish if she'd wanted to see them that badly. He happened to have a very friendly goldfish named Maurice. Right next to his bed.

He paused, staring absently out to the pool area. He might have to move Maurice soon, since he was a young and impressionable goldfish and Cris didn't really want anyone or anything watching what might happen in that very bed tonight. Maurice might be scarred for life.

Permitting himself a little smile, Cris realized he hoped that would be the case. That the desire and lust he could feel building inside him would be matched by the woman he wanted, and between the two of them they'd generate enough heat to fry Maurice.

Okay, that would be bad, but the concept was sound.

His phone discreetly vibrated and distracted him, pulling him out of his surreal musings and back into reality. Jen would return to the hotel around three or so.

Then his campaign would spring into action and his dreams-he hoped-would be fulfilled.

*~*~*~*

It was past four when the coach disgorged the last of its passengers at the hotel door.

Jen scurried inside with the rest of her traveling companions, eager for the cooler air and security of a solid foyer. Black clouds had gathered, fierce and threatening, and she knew a rattling thunderstorm was imminent.

Their timing was perfect. No sooner had the driver pulled away than the first drops spattered on the white tiles of the entrance and within seconds a blinding sheet of heavy rain obscured the outside of the hotel.

Guests murmured and moved to the windows to watch, jumping at the first loud crack of thunder.

Jen moved with them, then jumped herself, not from the thunder but from a warm arm slipping around her waist.

"Hello
mi hermosa
. I missed you today."

She turned to look up at him, catching her breath at the heat in his eyes. Lightning flashed, carving his cheekbones in brilliance and dancing from the white teeth smiling at her.

He was so beautiful. In a manly sort of way, of course. But the beauty was there, nonetheless.

"What?" He tilted his head inquiringly as she continued to stare.

"You are something else, Cris. You know that?"

"I am?"

"Yes, you are."

His arm tightened. "I hope you like this whatever-I-am thing…"

"Oh I do." She leaned into him, inhaling that amazing scent. "I very much do." Remembering herself, she glanced up again. "And thank you for the lovely surprises in my room. That flower…and those chocolates…" She closed her eyes and sighed. "Bliss."

"I'm happy they pleased you. It was my way of apologizing. I'd planned on dinner for the two of us, if you were in agreement. But business-a waste of my time type obligation-got in the damned way."

She chuckled and turned to watch the rain once more. "You work here, Cris. I understand that. Your commitment to your job must come first. I'm on vacation and can do as I please. But when it comes to the day-to-day concerns about making a living? We're all bound by it to varying degrees."