Monica McKayhan - Tropical Fantasy

“Excuse me?” she said.

“Walking barefoot is what country girls do,” he explained. “I thought you were a city girl.”

“I grew up in the city, but my parents are definitely from the country,” she said. He was not exactly the breath of fresh air she’d needed all night.

“I thought you were at your bachelorette party, getting your groove on.” He grinned that grand piano of a smile.

“I’ve had enough fun for one night. What about you? Shouldn’t you be somewhere sticking one-dollar bills into the thong of some overdeveloped Bahamian hoochie?”

Vince laughed this time. She liked his laugh—it was hearty and real. She couldn’t help noticing how handsome he looked in his designer jeans and silk shirt.

“I’ve never heard it put that way, but I’m sure the young lady that they hired is getting plenty of dollar bills without me.” He took a sip of his beer. “Where you headed?”

“To my condo for a long bath,” said Sasha.

“Ooh, sounds wonderful.” He smiled. “Any chance I could convince you to have a drink with me first?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I’ve had enough wine and rum punch to carry me through the night.”

“One drink,” Vince pressed.

“Just one?” Sasha was close to conceding.

“Just one.”

As much as Sasha wanted to play hard to get, she couldn’t. She’d secretly hoped that she would bump into Vince. He’d cluttered her thoughts all day—the intoxicating smell of his cologne, his eyes and that smile had haunted her. She’d wondered how he was spending his day while she was being pampered with the girls. Had he driven his rented Mercedes along the streets of Nassau, sightseeing? Was he a shopper? A fisherman? Did he play golf? Perhaps that was the thing that Vince and her father had in common. She’d found herself wondering these things and couldn’t for the life of her understand why.

Vince helped Sasha climb onto a stool at the poolside bar.

He asked, “What are you having?”

“I’m a wine girl,” she said, and then turned to the bartender, “Your house Chardonnay, please.”

“A Black Russian for me, Jake,” said Vince, calling the bartender by name.

“What is a Black Russian, anyway?” Sasha asked.

“Vodka and Kahlua,” Vince explained.

“Is it good?”

“It’s an interesting drink, with many variations.” He raised his glass after Jake set the drink in front of him. “This is a Black Russian. Add cola, and it becomes a Dirty Black Russian. Add ginger ale, and you have a Brown Russian. Add a touch of Guinness beer, and you have a Smooth Black Russian.” His voice was sultry as those last three words rolled off his tongue. Smooth Black Russian.

“Okay, I get it.”

“You should try one.”

“I’m not much of a drinker.”

“You’re on vacation. Let go of your inhibitions. Live a little,” Vince suggested. “Jake, give the lady a Brown Russian.”

“How do you know I wouldn’t like a Smooth Black Russian? Or perhaps a dirty one?”

“You don’t strike me as smooth or dirty,” teased Vince.

“I beg your pardon. You don’t know me like that.” Sasha giggled and took a long sip of her wine.

“You’re right. I don’t know you as well as I’d like to,” Vince said. “How does one break through that hard exterior of yours—that shield that you put up for the world?”

“I don’t have a shield!” Sasha argued. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know that you’re a workaholic, and you’d rather be somewhere other than here right now.”

He was wrong. She was exactly where she wanted to be at the moment.

“My firm is hosting a retreat on Tybee Island this weekend, and it’s imperative that I be there. Only...my sister is getting married, and I can’t be in two places at one time.”

“And your career is hanging in the balance because you’re not there. And there’s some other hotshot attorney that’s threatening to steal your spot,” Vince stated sarcastically.

“How’d you know that?” Sasha asked as Jake placed a Brown Russian in front of her.

Completely ignoring her question, Vince asked, “Who’s your rival? Some young, blond-haired, blue-eyed little geek who graduated Yale or Harvard at the top of his class?”

“No, actually she has brown hair and brown eyes, and graduated from UCLA. And I taught her everything she knows.”

“And now she’s your rival? I’d say she’s not very appreciative,” Vince said. “She’s at that retreat right now, isn’t she?”

“Rubbing noses with clients I should be rubbing noses with,” said Sasha as she took a sip of her Brown Russian. It didn’t make her cringe as she suspected it would, and before long she’d finished almost half. “What about you, Vince? What would you be doing right now if you weren’t here?”

“Let me see...” Vince checked his watch. “You mean at this very moment?”

“Yes, at this very moment.”

“Right now I’d be sipping a cup of something hot trying to get my voice back after running up and down the sidelines of a basketball court, yelling at the top of my lungs because my kids were losing. Or because they were winning.”

“So you have children.” It was more a statement than a question. A resolution. She suddenly felt a sense of disappointment. Either he was married, divorced or had a baby’s mama, and any way that spelled trouble. That is, if she were interested in him romantically. Which she wasn’t.

“Yes, I have fifteen children.” Vince grinned as Sasha’s eyes grew bigger. “I coach a youth league coed basketball team. And they had a game tonight.”

“Wow, a youth team. You must love children.” She sighed with relief, and then her heart warmed at the thought.

“They are the most honest people on the face of the earth. You don’t have to pretend with them. You just have to protect them. And teach them to take care of their teeth.” Vince polished off his Black Russian and raised his glass for Jake to bring him another.

“Their teeth, huh?” Sasha asked, and then she remembered her conversation with Bridget earlier. “You’re a dentist.”

“Yes.” Vince grinned. “A pediatric dentist.”

“Oh.” Sasha covered her mouth with her hand, wondering if he’d already inspected her teeth.

“Don’t worry. You have a nice set of teeth.” It was as if he’d read her mind. “I’ve already checked them out.”

“You are...something else.” Sasha smiled and shook her head. She found herself more engaged than she wanted to be.

She raised her glass to alert Jake that she needed another Brown Russian, and before long she’d polished off three. Suddenly Vince’s jokes became outrageously funny, and Sasha found herself laughing long and hard—and loudly. Vince pulled his chair around closer to Sasha, until she could feel his breath on her neck. His cologne crept its way into her nostrils.

“You smell wonderful,” she whispered.

His lips pressed themselves against hers, and his tongue teased the inside of her mouth. Whatever good sense she had was out the window as Vince took her to a new level of delight. His huge hand palmed her head and pulled her closer, and she wondered what that hand would feel like on her breast and even between her thighs. It had been a very long time since she’d even been kissed by a man. With his gentle touch, Vince had awakened every sensation in her and she got lost in the moment. She simply got lost.

* * *

As the bright sunshine beamed through her window and crept across her face, Sasha slowly and reluctantly opened her eyes. Her head was pounding—the alcohol had proved to be a more powerful force than she thought. She groaned, regretting every Brown Russian that she’d indulged in with a man whom she barely knew. It was her sister’s wedding day, and she knew she wouldn’t have the luxury of recovering from her awful hangover. She needed to meet the other girls for hair and makeup at eleven. And the nuptials were scheduled to take place at noon. As much as it pained her, she needed to know what time it was, and she slowly turned her aching head to look at the digital clock on the nightstand.