Red Tide by Tymber Dalton
He studied her out of the corner of his eye, not wanting her to notice his interest in her yet. The turquoise of her short-sleeved blouse set off her green eyes, and her hair looked natural, not dyed. She had delicate features and her eyes, while beautiful, almost looked sad.
He watched her hands and noticed how she rubbed her left thumb along the base of her ring finger. She wore no rings on that hand, but apparently had in the recent past. She wore modest diamond studs in her ears and a string of pearls around her neck. Her clothes were of nice quality, and the purse on the bar next to her was fairly expensive.
He finally glanced at her, sending her a polite, noncommittal smile as he sipped his drink. If he didn’t appear too forward, let her come to him, he could gain her trust. He turned his attention to the TV at her end of the bar and watched her out of the corner of his eye.
Indecision flashed across her face as she struggled with whether or not she wanted to talk to him. He waited for a commercial to interrupt the baseball game before he looked at her again, openly this time. She smiled at him, and he returned it. She glanced up at the TV and he followed her gaze, wondering if she would look at him again. She started to look his way when the commercial ended and he turned his attention back to the game. She was gaining more courage now. He felt her eyes on him. He let his gaze drift back to her. She offered up a small grin that he returned. He waited for another commercial break to look at her again. She smiled and nodded at the empty barstool next to her. That’s when he stood and made his way over to her.
She smiled as he walked up. “Hi. Would you like to sit down?”
He returned her smile. “Sure, thanks. Are you a Marlins fan?” he asked as the game came back on.
She shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know too much about baseball.”
“You want to know something?”
“What?”
He leaned close to her and whispered in a conspiratorial voice, “Neither do I.” This set them both off into gales of laughter.
She held out her hand to him. “My name’s Jenna.” She didn’t volunteer her last name, and he didn’t risk asking it at that point.
He took her hand in his and kissed it, but not so intimately that he scared her off. “John.” They moved to a table in the corner and talked for a little longer. Jenna opened up to him, and he studied her while she talked. John knew he would have her before the night was out. Her voice was starting to take on the slight edge of too much to drink, but she wasn’t drunk yet. He also knew she would live to see morning’s light. The desire had buried itself deep in the recesses of his dark soul. Tonight would be for fun, not need.
As Jenna talked, her long, delicate fingers absently played with a coaster in the center of the table. He leaned forward as if listening to her and extended his own hands so they almost, but not quite, touched hers. The more she talked the more she opened up, and he finally extended his left index finger to caress her hand.
Indecision flashed across her face. “Would you like to go somewhere else to talk?” she asked. “This place is kind of loud and obnoxious.”
His eyes captured hers. “That would be wonderful. Any suggestions?”
“Well, there’s a Bennigan’s just down the street. It’s still early enough that they’ll be open.”
He nodded. “Would you like me to drive?”
Jenna stood up and he saw her trying to decide if she was steady on her feet or not. If he had her trust, she would take him up on his offer. She looked at him, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I’d like that, John. Thank you.”
They walked out to John’s car. He watched Jenna’s eyes as she appraised the car and knew his standing just went up a few notches in her mind.
“Is this yours?” she asked.
He opened the door for her. “Lock, stock, and barrel. My Christmas present to myself.” He grinned.
She laughed as she slid into the cream-colored leather passenger seat. “How did you fit it in the stocking?”
Genuine laughter overcame John as he held the door for her. She was funny. Maybe this won’t be a one-nighter after all.
It was a five-minute drive to the restaurant. They got a secluded corner booth, and once the waitress took their drink order, they resumed their conversation. John took her hand in his and gazed into her eyes once more.
“So, why did you get divorced?” he ventured.
Jenna’s eyes saddened. “It just didn’t work out. He’s a workaholic, and I didn’t like coming second to his business all the time.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s a lawyer.” She spat out the words like bitter medicine. “Needless to say, he came out great in the divorce.” She pulled herself out of her musings. “What about you? I don’t see a ring on your hand.”
John believed he honestly liked her smile. “I’m married, but we’ve been separated for several years.” He knew it was a gambit to make that confession to her, but he also knew it would either win her over or drive her away. He was willing to take the risk.
Jenna’s eyes narrowed. “Why haven’t you divorced yet?”
He shrugged. “It was my fault, I’ll admit it. I started to have an affair and she found out. I figure that when she’s ready to put the screws to me, she will,” he added with a wry grin.
Her face broke out in a smile. “You were a bad boy, huh?” She was borderline drunk.
He nodded. “Yes, I was. I haven’t had the need to be divorced, so I never bothered to.” He took another risk. “Never found someone worth going through it for.” He studied her eyes closely. As he expected, they widened a little as another smile caressed her lips.
“Still looking for someone?” she asked.
He nodded again as he took a sip of his drink. “Yep.”
They ordered dinner and sat and talked until closing time. Outside in the parking lot, as he opened the car door for her again, he said, “Will you be able to drive home all right?”
She leaned against the open door and smiled. “How about you drive me home?”
Bingo.
He let his hand cover hers across the top of the door. “Where do you live?”
She turned her green gaze on him. “I was thinking maybe you could drive me to your place.” She waited for his reaction.
He smiled. “How do you know you can trust me? You just met me.”
Jenna threw her head back and laughed, the breeze catching her hair and blowing it out behind her. Her eyes twinkled. “So, what, you’re saying you’re another Ted Bundy or something?”
He chuckled. “Oh, I haven’t killed anyone in two, three days at least.”
This sent her off into gales of hysterical laughter. When she could speak again, she rested her arm next to his on the top of the door. Her voice sounded husky as she muttered, “Oh, something just tells me I can trust you.”
He caressed her cheek and watched her close her eyes and lean into his hand. John knew she was vulnerable, starved for affection and attention, and at least a little bit drunk.
The perfect combination.
“Then let’s go,” he replied. He got into the car and drove east on International Drive.
“So, your office is in Tampa?” she asked.
He nodded, his eyes on the road, trying not to miss the turnoff to the condo. “I also have a house there, but I prefer it over here. The drive isn’t too bad. When I have to be in early, I stay over there.”
She glanced out the window at the passing scenery. When she spoke, her voice had taken on a serious, cautious tone. “You want to know something? I’ve never done anything like this before.” She drifted into silence.
John chose his words carefully. “What’s that?”
She shrugged. “Meet a stranger in a bar and then go home with him.”
“If you aren’t comfortable, I can take you home or back to your car.”
“Oh, no,” she interrupted. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just that I feel… I don’t know, libera
He had to smile at that. It was the truth.
They pulled into his parking lot ten minutes later, and he offered her his arm as he led the way upstairs. When he opened the door, he quickly scanned the room to see if anything needed his attention. The condo was exactly as he’d last left it weeks earlier—immaculate.
John ushered her in and offered her a drink. He spent little time at the condo, but he made sure he kept it well-stocked for just such an occasion. Jenna perched on a stool at the counter while he fixed her a weak rum and Coke. He made another for himself and carried both of them, motioning for her to follow him into the living room.
She slowed as she walked by a tall, glass-fronted bookcase. “My, you’ve got a selection of books, John.” He watched her as she examined the titles. “Stephen King, Faulkner, Hemingway, Dos Passos.” She turned to look at him. “Quite an interesting collection.”
He offered up a small smile from where he sat at the end of the cream-colored leather couch. “I’ve been told I’m an interesting man.” He made sure he kept all hint of arrogance out of his voice as he said it.
John followed her gaze around the condo. He preferred light colors, whites, creams. He didn’t go in for knickknacks, but he did have pictures on the walls from past trips. And it was immaculate, not a speck of dust anywhere. When he was gone for long periods of time, he had a cleaning service come in twice weekly to make sure it stayed that way. One of the first things he’d done after purchasing the place was to have a special filter installed in the air conditioner that removed almost all of the dust from the air. Some might have called the place sterile since it didn’t have a homey feel to it, but he preferred it that way.
Ordered, neat, controlled.
He handed Jenna her drink after she sat down next to him on the sofa. “So, what do you think?” he asked.
She nodded. “You have a beautiful place here. Who says bachelors are slobs?” She grinned.
He laughed again. She really did have a good sense of humor. He was glad the need had disappeared for the night. He wanted to see her again.
He set his glass on a coaster on the coffee table and let his arm drape across the back of the sofa. His fingers traced gentle shapes on her arm, and she closed her eyes and sighed. “If I tell you something will you promise not to laugh?”
John let his fingers caress her. “Sure.”
“You’re the first man I’ve been with since my divorce.” Jenna opened her eyes to gauge his reaction.
“How long has it been?”
“Six months. We were married, if you want to call it that, for five years.”
He smiled. “Then you have a lot of time to make up.”
That brought a smile to her face. “I guess I do.”
He leaned over and brushed his lips against her cheek before pulling away to watch her. He held her eyes with his. “What do you want me to do?” he whispered.
A shiver of pleasure ran through her body. He took the glass from her hand and set it on a coaster next to his drink. He let his free hand rest motionless on her knee.
“Make love to me.” She leaned forward to kiss him.
* * * *
Dawn was creeping into the central Florida sky when Jenna drifted to sleep in John’s arms. He reached over to the bedside table with his free hand, picked up his cell phone, and called the office to leave a message for his secretary. He told her he wouldn’t be in that day.
Jenna had been magnificent, a voracious lover once he had her undressed and found her secret passions. He revised his earlier opinion of her. She proved more complex and had more to offer than he first thought. He wouldn’t be bored with her after only one or two trysts, and decided to keep her around indefinitely.
Or, at least until he had discovered all she had to offer.
His cell phone rang, pulling him from his reverie. Jenna.
He turned down the radio and answered. “Hello, sweetheart.”
“Hey, I’ve had a change of plans, if you’re interested in getting together.”
He smiled. Well, a fuck would be almost as good as a hunt. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Kelly just called me. She got in a fender bender.”
“Oh, no. Is she okay?”
“Yeah, but needless to say, she doesn’t feel like going out now.”
He felt his smile widen. “I’m just out grabbing a few things. Why don’t you meet me in an hour at my place.”
“Oh, good. I’ll see you then.”
“Looking forward to it, sweetheart.” He ended the call and ran through a list of nearby stores in his mind to stop at. At least I won’t strike out tonight.
Jenna showed up on time, and it didn’t take long before they were in bed and making love. Shortly before dawn the next morning, she cuddled closer to him, a smile caressing her lips. “I’m glad this is my day off,” she sleepily murmured.
John patted her on the arm. “Why don’t we grab a little sleep? When you feel up to it, I’ll take you out to breakfast.”
Jenna sighed. “I’d like that very much.”
He closed his eyes and sank into murky darkness, his need in hibernation for the moment.
Chapter Ten
Mitch awoke on the couch around four the next morning. The awkward position she slept in left her neck stiff and sore. On TV, an ad for a psychic hotline blared. Mitch stared at the screen for a moment, disorientated, before she realized where she was. She sat up and groaned. Pete looked up from where he was curled on the floor next to the couch. She remembered snuggling up next to Ed and then…
He was gone. The sadness she felt surprised her.
After covering Margarita’s cage, Mitch made her way to the bathroom. She studied her face in the mirror.
What does Ed see?
She shook her head and brushed the fuzzy taste out of her mouth before collapsing on her bed. Pete padded in and took up sentry position on the floor next to her. Mitch managed to drift back to sleep despite her sore neck.
The alarm startled her at six. Mitch swore and blindly swatted at the snooze button, her flailing fingers cutting the alarm off in mid-buzz. She felt around for the off button and rolled over. Outside, the sun lightened the eastern horizon to a grey glow over the tops of the cypress trees. She closed her eyes and thought of Ron’s words about Ed.
Yes, he’s handsome. Yes, we get along well. But is it worth risking not only our friendship, but our business as well?
Mitch managed to sleep again, finally waking for good a little before nine, with her head throbbing from oversleeping. She groaned and after uncovering Margarita, headed for the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. She saw the message light blinking on the answering machine on the counter. She hit play.
Two TV stations, a reporter from the Tribune and one from the Times, and three legitimate customers wanting to charter for the weekend. She wrote down their names and numbers. Then she let Pete out and retrieved her morning paper. Back upstairs, she read the paper over a cup of coffee and bowl of cereal. When the phone rang, she picked it up without thinking.
“Hello?”
“Did you sleep well?” It was Ed.
She sighed. “I have a kink in my neck, and a throbbing headache, but other than that, I’m fine.”
“Any plans for the day?”
She swallowed a mouthful of cereal. “Not really. I’m going to try to get in touch with John about the divorce filing. If I can track him down,” she added.
“I’ll be over at the boat in a couple of hours. I’m going to try to get some chores caught up here.”
“Okay. Then I’ll see you later.”
Mitch stared at the phone for a moment after she hung up. Ron’s words still echoed in her mind. She never paid attention to how Ed reacted to her. He was, well, Ed. S
It still amazed her sometimes that John’s actions bothered her so much. The way she’d found out about him.
Mitch could still picture the surprise on the woman’s face, a cheap little blonde floozy who worked at the café across the street from John’s old office. Mitch would never forget the calm, detached look on John’s face, though. Not dismay, not shame—hell, not even embarrassment that she’d walked in on his infidelities. He didn’t even have the decency to try to explain, much less cover himself.
“I didn’t think you’d be home this early,” was all he said before she’d slammed the bedroom door shut.
Mitch remembered walking into the kitchen, struggling to maintain her composure, feeling both anger at John for his actions and vindication that her suspicions were now validated. She walked back to the bedroom and threw the door open. The blonde was just crawling out of bed. Her bed. The woman froze when she saw the fury painted on Mitch’s face.
John made no attempt to get up. He lay there, not even a sheet covering him, and listened to Mitch with that same calm detachment.
Mitch’s voice was low and steely, fueled by hatred and disgust. “I don’t care who you are, or how you met him. All I know is that he is still my husband, and if I ever catch you in this house again, I will personally see to it that you don’t have any hair left. You have till the count of three to pick up your clothes and exit under your own power or I will bodily remove you from this house. One—”
“But I’m not dressed!”
Mitch took a step toward her and she scrambled for her clothes strewn on the floor.