Falling Page 5

  "And yet you will lecture these folks? Tell them what? Make believe stories?"

  "No, no." He leaned toward her. "I will tell them what we all want to hear, my dear. Even you. I will give them hope. I will make them laugh. I will give them a reason to get up in the morning and mostly ignore the aches and pains that are the inevitable companions of advancing years." He touched her arm. "You should join us."

  "Oh I…" She hesitated.

  "Please? We'd love to have you sit in. It's informal, and a better way to pass the evening than sitting alone."

  "Well, I might not…"

  At that very moment, as chance would have it, she looked through the bar into the open foyer and saw a tall dark man getting into a taxi outside. She knew, without him turning around, that it was Cris.

  Where he was going, who he was going to see-obviously she didn't know. Equally obviously she was indeed doomed to spend the evening alone.

  Something tiny and sharp twisted in her heart and she lifted her chin, doing her best to ignore it. "Thank you Palmer. You're very kind. I believe I will join you."

  "That's the ticket, my sweet. That's the ticket."

  Chapter 8

  He crossed and uncrossed his legs for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. This meeting was endless, the capacity of the hotel chain chairman to wax poetic seemed infinite, and the numbers he was reciting held nothing new for anyone who had perused the monthly reports from head office.

  Cris had and he was bored out of his fucking skull.

  He'd spent the first fifteen minutes being reassured that all was well and his hotel was running smoothly enough to serve as an example to other locations. He smiled and made sure he complimented his staff, the fortunate arrival of several conventions in the area and all the usual crap trotted out at times like these.

  Then the chairs had been pulled from a large table, the executives had seated themselves and the bullshit commenced.

  Projections, developments, end-of-summer programs…the numbers droned on and on, sending him into a near-catatonic state of boredom. The last minute summons to attend was viewed by corporate as an honor. He tried his very best to endorse that sentiment.

  And failed dismally. He'd had his evening all planned out and was looking forward to it.

  The leisurely seduction of one Jennifer Hodges.

  He'd worked like hell that afternoon, making sure all the more pressing business had been concluded, and that everything was functioning as smoothly as possible. The latest group of seniors had been checked in and settled, complimentary breakfast coupons were passed around and he'd heard the cheerful laughter that heralded another successful evening at the bar.

  Dinner was a buffet of local delicacies and seafood brought in just that morning. Light but tasty, it was the perfect meal for a tropical night and there would be dancing later.

  He'd hoped to hold her in his arms, to see how she fit against him, how she felt swaying to a slow primal rhythm. He'd make sure she had a couple of drinks just to relax her, but no more. He wanted her to know who was touching her, running his hands over her skin, slipping her clothes from that beautifully soft and curvy body…

  He crossed his legs once more, clenching his teeth on a subdued groan. He wanted her, badly. There was desire there, desire for her body and her heat and her passion. But there was more, he knew. A deep urge to learn all there was about her and not just to delve into the mysteries between her thighs. She was complex, fascinating, troubled and, in some ways, needy.

  And he realized he wanted to be needed for himself, for a change. Not as the high-powered manager of a successful hotel, but as a man.

  They were a match made in some tropical heaven. And if the damn meeting went on much longer he might be forced to kill somebody to find out if that tropical heaven was in her hotel room or his suite.

  He sighed and focused to the best of his ability.

  Two hours later, the end of his tether had come and gone and was at least a mile behind him. It was all he could do to be polite and shake hands with the men who considered the evening a raging success.

  And he barely suppressed a scream of frustration as he slipped into a cab for the half hour trip back to the Palms. It was a punch in the gut to realize the evening was pretty much over and done with. Bureaucratic bullshit had interfered at precisely the wrong time and kept him away from the most interesting woman he'd met in years.

  It was definitely Not. Fucking. Fair.

  Now he was going to have to rethink his campaign of seduction all over again. He reached for his phone. "Hey Evan, it's Cris. Need a favor…"

  *~*~*~*

  Jen had thoroughly enjoyed her evening. Which was a huge surprise, since if anyone had told her she'd have fun sitting with a bunch of folks older than her parents and listening to an admittedly wicked old man tell jokes with all the professional expertise of a comedian on a TV show-well, she'd have never believed it. Not in a million years.

  But she had laughed with everyone else, listened intently as Palmer used that humor to get his point across, and at the conclusion applauded as loudly as anyone.

  He was good. He was more than good, he was brilliant in many ways.

  He'd held her captive with his words, rich and colorful, as he'd talked about his years of traveling with an advertising company. He touched on funny moments in airports far away, and sobering incidents where the civilization they all took for granted seemed absent.

  He'd been in war zones and bazaars. He'd nearly bought a wife, he mentioned, only to realize the one he had wouldn't be pleased at the purchase. That made everyone laugh, but Jen had a suspicion he was telling the truth.

  He was the ultimate mature bad boy and the several women in his audience were every bit as attentive as Jen. Some things about an attractive man never fade with time. And Palmer had more than his fair share.

  His lecture was punctuated with references to his wife, who he referred to as his other half. Not better half, because he explained they were both human and therefore flawed. But the one person who complemented him perfectly. The rare person who understood him and shared so many of his interests. She also disagreed with him on a regular basis, wasn't shy about telling him he was wrong, and kept him in line. And when she looked at him he felt ten feet tall.

  Jen had swallowed down a sigh. Palmer had been loved and loved in return. There were no perfect relationships, she realized as she listened. But if there was love, there was someplace to start from. To build on.

  It dawned on her that Palmer wasn't mentioning his wife's name and always referred to her in the past tense. Sure enough, in a rare somber moment, Palmer touched on his wife's passing.

  "A light went out for me that cannot ever be re-lit." His words were soft and echoed into the stillness that had fallen in the lounge. "But I know my wife will always be with me. And that, my friends, is how love will continue to illuminate what's left of my life. I won't marry again, but I will not be afraid to love, to share that magic if I find the right person who can return it. We can take love, use it, abuse it and ignore it. We can do a lot of things with and for love that we probably shouldn't. But how often do we just simply appreciate it? How often do we take a few moments from our day and say to ourselves I am loved. And if we do, can we fully comprehend the magnitude of those three words? How can we get away from the need to say I love you and understand that I am loved is equally important in this life equation?"

  Jen leaned forward intently, wondering if Palmer was somehow speaking directly to her.

  "I like to think that perhaps I can help you understand what it means to love and be loved. That it has to be a two-way street. If you love with all that you are, but receive less in return…you are being short-changed. Do something about it. If you love, but it's tempered with the flotsam of life, you are short-changing yourself. Do something about it."

  He waved his hands, emphasizing their elegance along with his words. He was a consummate showman, and yet he was too close to the point
for Jen's comfort.

  "Life is short, my friends. Many of us are dealing with the annoying irritations we all will face as our years continue. We do so as best we can and consequently provide huge amounts of profitable income to more than a few pharmaceutical companies. Not to mention hair-replacement clinics." He grinned at the laughter. "We take meds for this, health supplements for that, and high-grade booze for everything in between."

  Jen smiled. It was blunt and succinct, and probably not too far from the truth.

  "But the best medicine is knowing how to love. And being loved in return. My wife loved me and I loved…more than I can ever say. I'm alone now, yes, but that love sustains me every day. I wake up knowing I'll never see that beloved face again, but warmed by the memories we made together." He glanced around. "If you're fortunate enough to still share breaths with the one you love, don't waste a moment of it. If you're like me, then relish the memories, stand tall on them, build on them and share the magic of that love with everyone you meet."

  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.