Читать книгу Prize of a Lifetime - Donna Hill, Donna Hill - Страница 9

Mitchell rose before the sun. He wished he could say that he’d actually slept. But he didn’t. More than once he’d awakened during the night with a hard-on that could cut glass, and he owed his discomfort to Sasha Carrington. Throughout the night he’d envisioned her lush body naked in his bed, on the beach, in the ocean and him doing things to her and her to him that are only talked about on a 900 call. Her soft scent haunted him like an apparition. He’d found himself reaching for her in the throes of tossing and turning in his bed, only to discover that he’d grabbed the downy-soft pillow.

Bleary-eyed, he made his way to the bathroom and turned on the shower full-blast. Maybe an early-morning jog on the beach would shake off the effects of Sasha he hoped as he stepped under the prickling pellets of icy-cold water.

Donning a sleeveless T-shirt and his jogging shorts, he laced up his sneakers, grabbed a hand towel from the bathroom, draped it around his neck and left for the beach. Walking through the reception area he passed the bar and closed shops and inhaled the aromas of steamed fish, ham, bacon and spices as the kitchen staff prepared to open the breakfast buffet at six.

When he reached the beach, a hint of orange glowed just above the horizon. He had about a half hour before the sun fully rose, and the heat with it. He took off at a slow jog, his only company the seagulls and the ocean that rolled toward the shore.

This was the best time of day, he thought, picking up his pace, those precious moments just before dawn, when stillness and the perfection of nature were at their most beautiful. Nothing was more awesome than watching the magnificence of the sun emerge above the horizon. It was a humbling sight that made you realize how small man really was.

He took the edge of the towel that hung around his neck and wiped his damp face. He’d started jogging about two years ago and found that it was the best way to relieve stress. When things had started falling apart financially and romantically, jogging was the only thing that kept him from walking out into rush-hour traffic and calling it a day. After a good run, things didn’t seem quite as dismal.

He reached the part of the beach that led to a bluff of rocks where many of the tour boats docked. He slowed and climbed the rocks until he reached the top then sat down to watch the sun rise. A pathway of orange light spread out over the water, wider and wider as the sun made its ascent, pushing the darkness slowly aside.

Mitchell leaned forward and squinted against the light. He really didn’t get enough sleep. Now he was seeing things. But what he was seeing was getting closer instead of vanishing like the hallucination he thought it was. His pulse kicked up a notch as the bikini-clad beauty emerged from the water like a water goddess—warm brown, wet, with curves that could send a man driving right off the edge. She didn’t see him, and he wanted it that way so that he could enjoy, for as long as possible, the sweet eye candy that made his mouth water.

It was then that he noticed the blue-and-yellow striped towel stretched out on the beach near the shore. She strolled toward it, tossing her wet hair over her shoulder, her strong thighs rippling as she walked.

Whatever he’d imagined that Sasha would look like naked paled in comparison to what was right in front of him. His jaw clenched when she bent down to retrieve her towel. Straightening, she ran the towel across her wet hair and down her arms as she took in the scenery around her, the beauty of the Caribbean being awakened…and then her gaze fell on him. He saw her quick intake of breath, the sudden rise of her breasts. He stood up and began to climb down. He crossed the sand to where she stood, unmoving.

“Morning. I see you’re an early riser, too.”

Suddenly self-conscious, she wrapped the towel around her. “I didn’t think anyone was out here, so I went for a swim, a habit I picked up when I…” She started to say when she began her campaign to get her weight and health under control, but didn’t. Instead she said, “When I need to unwind.”

“Great bod—exercise,” he stuttered, wanting to kick himself for the near blunder. “I prefer to jog. I’ve never been a great swimmer.”

Now what? she thought, her mind going completely blank, which led to a pregnant pause. “Hmm, how did you sleep?”

“Great,” he lied. “You?”

“Like a baby.” She smiled. Like a baby that wakes up every two hours. “I’m going to head back. I can smell breakfast from here and I’m starving.”

“I was thinking the same thing. I’ll walk back with you.” They walked for a while in silence. “Listen, if you don’t have plans for today, my offer to give you a tour still stands.”

She turned her head to look at him, making sure he wasn’t just making conversation. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

Her throat went suddenly dry. He still wanted to see her, spend time with her. She wasn’t going to screw it up this time. “I’d love to.”

His eyes lit up and crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “Great. Let’s share breakfast and then we can head out. They have some great sights in St. John’s. I think you’ll like it.”

She bobbed her head. “Okay. Sounds like a plan.”

They parted ways in front of their adjoining doorways and promised to be ready in a half hour.

The instant Sasha closed her door she darted to her purse, pulled out her cell phone and prayed that her international service had kicked it. It was going to cost her a small fortune on her next cell phone bill, but it would be worth it.

She punched in April’s number, closed her eyes, crossed her fingers and waited as the phone rang and rang. Finally, April’s groggy voice came on the line.

“Hello.” She sounded as if she’d swallowed sand.

“Wake up! It’s me.”

“Me who?” April teased, her voice still thick as she rubbed sleep from her eyes and turned her back to her sleeping lover.

“You know good and damned well who this is,” Sasha snapped back. “And tell him to beat it, we need to talk.”

“And what makes you think I’m not alone?” she asked in a whisper, sitting up then tiptoeing out into the living room.

“Because if I know you like I know you, right about now you’re slipping out of your room so he won’t overhear you squealing and hollering when I tell you what I have to tell you.”

“Damn, I hate it when you’re right.” April giggled. “So tell, tell,” she urged with the excitement of a child. “Who is he and is he cute?”

“Chile…I don’t even know where to begin.”

April plopped down on the couch and curled her legs beneath her. “At the beginning, of course. And don’t you dare leave anything out.”

As Sasha relayed every detail of her trip she hunted through her closet for the perfect breakfast outfit. When she told April how she’d almost blown it at the airport, April lit into her like a flash fire.

“What! How many times do I have to tell you to stop being so stunned when a good-looking man takes an interest in you? You are worth every second of the time they spend with you and then some. Now go ’head and finish your story,” she huffed.

Sasha shook her head and rolled her eyes at the sisterly rebuke then continued, bringing April right up to date.

“Wow,” April said, dragging the word out. “All that, huh? He sounds fantastic, and it’s clear even to Stevie Wonder that he’s totally interested in you. And you said he’s right next door?”

“Yep.”

“Now that’s what I call convenient!”

They cracked up laughing.

“So I say, enjoy the moment, girl. You know why you’re down there, to snatch the prize of a lifetime, and if you hook something extra along the way…why not enjoy that, too? You’re not there looking for a Mr. Forever, just a Mr. Right Now.”

Sasha tossed the idea around. What April was saying had merit. She was there on a mission, and if she managed to get something extra out of the deal with a very desirable man, then why not?

“So, what are you wearing?” April asked, breaking into Sasha’s train of thought.

Sasha had laid out a tangerine-colored sundress in a light gauzy material that delicately swept her ankles. She described her outfit.

“Oh yes, that color looked great on you in the store. How did your micro braids hold up in the water?”

“Great. I wish I had done this ages ago. That stylist is so good that it looks like a head full of soft, bouncy curls. And I can get it wet, pull it up, down and it springs right back. I love it.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Kim you said so. Uh-oh, Calvin is calling me. Gotta run. You just have a good time, you hear me? And keep me posted!”

“I will,” Sasha said with a grin before hanging up. She tossed the cell phone in her purse, thought about calling her parents but decided to wait until after breakfast. At this time of the morning, her mother would swear that something was wrong and no amount of denying would convince her that some harm hadn’t come to her child. She checked her watch. Her eyes widened. She’d spent nearly twenty of her thirty minutes running her mouth with April. Now she had to hurry. At least she had “ready, set, go” hair. That was one thing she needn’t worry about.

She darted into the bathroom and took a lightning-fast shower, toweled off and lathered her skin with shea-butter lotion and then a sunscreen before spritzing her bare arms and ankles with insect repellent. That bit of business aside, she quickly brushed her lashes with mascara, put gold hoops in her ears, grabbed a tangerine scrunchie and pulled her hair up into a ponytail. The style elongated her face and accented her cheekbones and wide brown eyes. She examined her reflection, turning left then right, pleased with what she saw. A swipe of deodorant and she was ready to slip into her dress with about three minutes to spare. Just as she was stepping into her white flats, there was a knock on her door. She drew in a breath. It was a pure Lady Sings the Blues moment, when Billie Holiday, played by Diana Ross, sees Louis McKay, played by Billie Dee Williams, for the first time. If she’d had a wall behind her, she would have slid down it just like Billie Holiday did. Instead, she gripped the doorknob.

“Hi,” she managed to say.

Mitchell, with the sun behind him, looked like a bronze Adonis. His milky-white T-shirt stretched across his broad chest was tucked into a pair of tan linen shorts that reached his knees. The hard muscles in his exposed arms flexed and released as he removed the dark shades from his sweet chocolate-brown eyes and looked at her with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry, I’m starving,” he confessed. “Didn’t want to go over there without you and let you think I’d left all my manners in Georgia when you found me hunched over a plate.”

Sasha tossed her head back and laughed full-out, releasing the sexual tension that bounced back and forth between them. “You know what? That’s just what I would have thought—This man’s mama didn’t raise him right,” she said laying on the Southern accent. She smiled. “Let me get my bag and I’ll be right with you.” She spun around, feeling like she was going out on a first date…and she sort of was doing just that. Her heart thumped.

Mitchell watched her easy grace as she retreated inside the room to retrieve her bag. Why did he have such a thing for this woman whom he barely knew? After he’d left her a half hour earlier he couldn’t get ready fast enough so that he could see her again. What he needed to do, and quickly, was think with the head on the top of his neck and get back to the game plan. No distractions. He drew in a breath and straightened as she approached, but when she looked up and smiled at him, he forgot all about the plan.