Murder in Paradise
Carolyn Gibbs
Copyright © 2014
Carolyn Gibbs
Copyright © 2014
Romance author Claire Jenkins was halfway to her destination, the early morning Hawaiian breeze pushed her tiny row boat through the blue water toward the small island ahead. She stopped rowing briefly to tighten the navy baseball cap on her head, pulling her short ponytail through the back opening. She stretched her arms up and around for a moment, and took a few deep breathes before picking up the oars again and putting more elbow grease into her paddling. Mark would’ve loved this place. The thought of her former fiancé caused a slight tremble in her heart, and she conjured up another thought before feelings of melancholy overcame her. It had been nearly two years and yet, her mind and body reacted as if it were yesterday. She needed to focus on the here and now. She looked ahead to the approaching shoreline and marveled at how gracefully the surf washed over the sand, and couldn’t wait to walk on it.
Claire was in Hawaii for a writer’s conference. As an author she attended many conferences, but this was her first visit to Hawaii. She shared a room with her good friend and writing buddy Amy Wells, who was also a romance author. Claire planned to attend some workshops during the conference, but also looked forward to sightseeing and catching up with old friends. She was taking a break now, off to explore the smaller island across the shore. With a tote bag packed with snacks and a small notebook, just in case inspiration struck. A relaxing day was on the horizon.
Sam, her newest writing partner, would be arriving soon. Her heart jumped at the thought of seeing him, even though she wouldn’t admit it. After all they were professionals working together, had become friends, and besides she wasn’t Sam’s type of woman. His ex’s included models and socialites. Sam reminded her of the cool literary types from college. Men who attracted a trail of women behind them, unaware of their powers of attraction over the opposite sex. Amy teased her about working with Sam, predicting she’d soon find herself under his spell. But Claire didn’t want to be under anyone’s spell now, she still had some inner work to do. She came here to relax, and not worry about her love life or lack thereof. The extra few days after the conference that she and Amy had planned to stay would allow her to leave the hotel and explore their beautiful surroundings. Sam was staying too. She shook her head. I’ve got to stop thinking things like that. She smiled to herself, and put her mind into the task at hand, rowing, her biceps and shoulder muscles flexed with each rotation.
This place is too beautiful to be uninhabited, she thought. However, she hoped it was. The native New Yorker in Claire sat back in the boat and stopped rowing for a moment to just take in the beauty around her. The sun heated her cocoa, brown skin, the lush tropical breeze caressed her and made the fronds of the palm trees rustle gently. The azure water sparkled like diamonds had been cast upon the surface and the air smelled crisp and clean.
Shaking off the enchantment of the moment, she picked up her oars and finished her journey to the island. She jumped out of the boat and pulled it up onto the shore. Claire reached into the boat and grabbed her bag, and then began to walk along the black sand of the beach. She marveled at the tropical landscape. The palm trees and exotic wild flowers swayed with the gentle breeze. She strolled away from the water’s edge, heading farther inland toward the bountiful foliage that drew her attention. She slipped through an inviting path parting the trees and stopped in her tracks. Surprised to see an elegantly set table for two, complete with a bottle of wine. I’ve walked in on a romantic getaway in the middle of the tropics. Who would dine in such elegance? I don’t want to intrude.
Her quiet contemplation was shattered when she spotted a man through the trees. He was wiping something from his hands. Is that blood? He was stomping out red liquid drops in the ground, unaware of her presence. Claire stood absolutely still, making sure the giant green leaves concealed her position.
When he turned around, her eyes widened in shock and she raised an eyebrow. "Ohh..." She automatically covered her mouth with a hand. The masculine half of the newlywed couple from their hotel’s honeymoon suit stood silhouetted in the morning sunlight. Claire had run into the couple several times around the hotel; in the dining room, at the pool, and even spoken to them.
Where was his wife? What was he doing? Her wild writer’s imagination filled in the blanks for those questions. Her mind became a search engine, calling up accounts of news stories of husbands and boyfriends accused of killing their mates. A self-proclaimed news junkie, Claire was a journalist before she wrote fiction. She often used news stories as a springboard for her writing. As the scene in front of her unfolded, her mind played back bits and pieces of radio news reports of husbands killing their wives. Despite the warm tropical breeze, chills echoed throughout her body, threatening to paralyze her. She clutched hold of a tree branch to steady herself and keep from cracking her knuckles out of anxiety. Calm down, I don’t really know what’s going on here. Should she make her presence known and confront the man or try to make it back to the beach and the row boat? Could she get off the island without being discovered? Her fertile imagination and the deep panic crawling up her spine made a discreet retreat seem to be her best option, but how to reach the boat?
Claire was in Hawaii for a writer’s conference. As an author she attended many conferences, but this was her first visit to Hawaii. She shared a room with her good friend and writing buddy Amy Wells, who was also a romance author. Claire planned to attend some workshops during the conference, but also looked forward to sightseeing and catching up with old friends. She was taking a break now, off to explore the smaller island across the shore. With a tote bag packed with snacks and a small notebook, just in case inspiration struck. A relaxing day was on the horizon.
Sam, her newest writing partner, would be arriving soon. Her heart jumped at the thought of seeing him, even though she wouldn’t admit it. After all they were professionals working together, had become friends, and besides she wasn’t Sam’s type of woman. His ex’s included models and socialites. Sam reminded her of the cool literary types from college. Men who attracted a trail of women behind them, unaware of their powers of attraction over the opposite sex. Amy teased her about working with Sam, predicting she’d soon find herself under his spell. But Claire didn’t want to be under anyone’s spell now, she still had some inner work to do. She came here to relax, and not worry about her love life or lack thereof. The extra few days after the conference that she and Amy had planned to stay would allow her to leave the hotel and explore their beautiful surroundings. Sam was staying too. She shook her head. I’ve got to stop thinking things like that. She smiled to herself, and put her mind into the task at hand, rowing, her biceps and shoulder muscles flexed with each rotation.
This place is too beautiful to be uninhabited, she thought. However, she hoped it was. The native New Yorker in Claire sat back in the boat and stopped rowing for a moment to just take in the beauty around her. The sun heated her cocoa, brown skin, the lush tropical breeze caressed her and made the fronds of the palm trees rustle gently. The azure water sparkled like diamonds had been cast upon the surface and the air smelled crisp and clean.
Shaking off the enchantment of the moment, she picked up her oars and finished her journey to the island. She jumped out of the boat and pulled it up onto the shore. Claire reached into the boat and grabbed her bag, and then began to walk along the black sand of the beach. She marveled at the tropical landscape. The palm trees and exotic wild flowers swayed with the gentle breeze. She strolled away from the water’s edge, heading farther inland toward the bountiful foliage that drew her attention. She slipped through an inviting path parting the trees and stopped in her tracks. Surprised to see an elegantly set table for two, complete with a bottle of wine. I’ve walked in on a romantic getaway in the middle of the tropics. Who would dine in such elegance? I don’t want to intrude.
Her quiet contemplation was shattered when she spotted a man through the trees. He was wiping something from his hands. Is that blood? He was stomping out red liquid drops in the ground, unaware of her presence. Claire stood absolutely still, making sure the giant green leaves concealed her position.
When he turned around, her eyes widened in shock and she raised an eyebrow. "Ohh..." She automatically covered her mouth with a hand. The masculine half of the newlywed couple from their hotel’s honeymoon suit stood silhouetted in the morning sunlight. Claire had run into the couple several times around the hotel; in the dining room, at the pool, and even spoken to them.
Where was his wife? What was he doing? Her wild writer’s imagination filled in the blanks for those questions. Her mind became a search engine, calling up accounts of news stories of husbands and boyfriends accused of killing their mates. A self-proclaimed news junkie, Claire was a journalist before she wrote fiction. She often used news stories as a springboard for her writing. As the scene in front of her unfolded, her mind played back bits and pieces of radio news reports of husbands killing their wives. Despite the warm tropical breeze, chills echoed throughout her body, threatening to paralyze her. She clutched hold of a tree branch to steady herself and keep from cracking her knuckles out of anxiety. Calm down, I don’t really know what’s going on here. Should she make her presence known and confront the man or try to make it back to the beach and the row boat? Could she get off the island without being discovered? Her fertile imagination and the deep panic crawling up her spine made a discreet retreat seem to be her best option, but how to reach the boat?
Love and the Economy
Carolyn Gibbs
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
The atmosphere hung thick and heavy in the plush Providence, Rhode Island, office, even though the air conditioner ran at full blast. An authoritative silence filled the room as Andrea and Daren Elliot sat across from their accountant. The constant hum of the air conditioner and a pencil scribbling on a pad were the only sounds heard while George Baxter studied over their financial records. Every now and then, he cleared his throat and shook his head, oblivious to his client’s presence, lost in the figures in front of him.
“Is it really that bad, George?” asked Daren, who would rather be undergoing a root canal than having his accountant weed through his business and personal records, trying to prevent bankruptcy. He knew what George was reading, and it wasn’t pretty. The damaged economy tore into his company’s profits, and Daren hung on by a fingernail. He needed financial advice and guidance, but his accountant’s request that his ex-wife Andrea attend their meeting had intensified the pressure.
Andrea nervously fidgeted with her coffee cup. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”
“Oh, it’s bad, guys.” George finally glanced at them over his rimless glasses. “You’re barely making it, Daren. This has been a tough quarter for you. It’s plain to see that you’re over-extending yourself. You can’t continue to pay rent for your office space, rent on your apartment, and child support payments.”
Andrea squirmed in her seat at the mention of the child support she received for their two children Jon and Melissa, who had come through the divorce remarkably better than she had. And she would do everything in her power to keep it that way.
“The kids have to be taken care of,” unconsciously slipped out of her mouth.
“Don’t worry, Andrea. I’m not suggesting cutting back child support. As a father myself, I agree the children should come first. I’m saying that Daren can’t afford to maintain his apartment, continue to fulfill his obligation to the children, and adequately run his business, which is his source of income. I’m suggesting that he move back home for a while until he can at least catch up and start seeing a profit again. Be smart and wait for the market to turn around, and save some money in the meanwhile.” George braced himself for the verbal onslaught he anticipated after advising a divorced couple to move back in together. Nevertheless, due to the terrible economy and the housing crunch, accountants across the country were delivering this unfathomable news to their clients daily.
“What? Move in together. Are you kidding? We can’t do that,” Andrea said, absent-mindedly slamming her cup down on the desk, almost cracking it.
“Are you sure there’s nothing left we can do besides that?” Daren remained calm, calmer than his ex.
“I’m afraid that’s the best solution right now for you guys. I know it’s a tough thing to hear, but the records don’t lie. It’s best to give up the apartment and all the expense it entails.”
****
Although Daren might have appeared composed on the outside, inside his stomach twisted in knots. Hearing confirmation spoken aloud that his business teetered on the brink of failure had been hard enough, but having Andrea listening there beside him was a double whammy.
During their ten-year marriage, his business had gone through a few difficult times, but it never prevented him from providing for his family. Daren had prided himself for never bringing his business worries to the dinner table, but that pride had been thwarted when Andrea protested he didn’t bring himself to the dinner table enough. He was a workaholic, which had been a major factor in their break-up. Daren loved his work and spent many hours growing his business with Ron Harrison, his partner and best friend from college. They had both taken pride in all they had accomplished in building Elliot & Harrison Designs, Inc. How poetic that all the time he had spent building their business, growing a client base, and learning the market ultimately ruined his marriage. And now, thanks to the weak economy, the business was taking a nosedive.
“Be careful what you wish for,” his father had told him when Daren confessed how he longed for his own company instead of tirelessly working for someone else. He worked hard to develop the business, but at what cost? He wondered as his eyes fell upon Andrea.
She looked as fabulous as ever. Being single again must agree with her. She looked more relaxed than she did while they were married—that is, before hearing the advice they’d just been given. He dug her new sexy, swingy haircut. He liked how her chin-length, shiny black hair perfectly highlighted her soulful brown eyes. It also revealed her cute cheeks and dimples when she smiled, which she sometimes flashed when he went by to pick up the kids.
He still loved to see her smile, but of course she wasn’t smiling now, and he couldn’t blame her. How did he get them into this mess? She deserved more, and he would work his butt off to make his business work again. Even though he felt like a failure for having to return to their home—the home he was still helping to pay for—the idea of moving back excited him. Sometimes just looking at Andrea and remembering how they used to be sent a jolt of excitement throughout his body and stirred his heart.
When they were married, their first place was so small they kept running into each other, literally, but they didn’t mind. Back then they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. How could he resist her? She was both the smartest and sexiest woman he’d known, and he stupidly let her get away. A flash of Andrea lying in bed wearing one of her short baby doll nightgowns, pink and lacy, waiting for him to join her, sent warmth to his lower body. He remembered how good she looked in baby dolls or anything else she wore. One of the many things that first attracted him to her was how natural and unaware she was of her sex appeal. What other women worked hard to master—the mannerisms, facial expressions, and the sexy sway of her hips while walking—was all organic for her, unrehearsed. Just blinking her eyes and casually tossing her hair could get to him, and she hadn’t a clue. Then Daren came back down to present-day-earth and faced her pained expression.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t get rid of the bed in the guest room,” she said. “I was considering turning it into an office, but now you’ll be sleeping there.”
“Yeah, it’s good you kept the bed,” Daren said, his arousal waning. He knew he had to remain focused in the present if this new living arrangement was going to work. He couldn’t keep gazing at Andrea longingly, especially when she appeared to have moved on.
And of course they had the children to consider in all this. He didn’t want this to be strange or hard on them in any way, but they needed to know this would be only a temporary arrangement and their parents weren’t getting back together again. Although, deep down, he would’ve been all for it. He had a failed marriage under his belt and a business on the brink, but their children were the one shining success he could take pride in.
Although Andrea faulted him for being a workaholic for most of their marriage, he had seriously worked on turning that around since their break-up. He spent time with the children whenever he could. He saw them every other weekend and drove them to school a few times a week. Since the divorce, he realized he spent more time with the children now than when he lived with them. He learned so many little things about them during their weekend visits, like their favorite games, what they liked or hated to eat, and—most importantly—how to get them to laugh. He loved to see them happy, especially when he thought back to his own childhood. His parents hadn’t divorced, but they fought so much that he and his brother often wished they had. He didn’t want his children growing up hearing his parents shouting from room to room, afraid a bomb would go off at any time and blow their lives to shreds. He did the best he could to make sure Jon and Melissa knew they were a family even though their father didn’t live with them.
“Do you want to tell the kids about this, or do you think we should do it together?” he asked.
“If you want, we can tell them together when you come by next time.” Andrea spoke in her gentle, parenting tone of voice. The familiar tenor comforted him during such a difficult time, and he was grateful for that.
Darren stared down at the floor. “That sounds good.”
They said goodbye to George and walked to the elevator together. When Andrea pushed the down button, Daren glanced at her hand. He wasn’t surprised to find her left hand completely bare, not graced with the familiar solitaire diamond engagement ring, which he had so proudly picked out, and stacked above her wedding band. Instead, her soft, ring-less, manicured hand telegraphed to any interested man, I’m single and available.
He glanced down at his own left hand. It was also ring-less; however, he thought of himself as single but not fully available. He had taken their divorce hard and was treading lightly into the dating pool. He had had a few dates since he moved out but nothing much to speak of, and certainly not anything that would cause him to forget the beautiful woman standing next to him.
* * * *
When the empty elevator arrived, they walked in and both reached for the lobby button, their hands colliding. A surge of energy flashed through Andrea as her hand brushed Daren’s, quick like a computer processor working, but she felt it nonetheless. Even though their marriage had ended, and she in fact had been the one who wanted out, being close to Daren still affected her.
”I’m sorry,” he said after their hands connected
“Me too.” She looked up at him while the door shut. She referred to the elevator button mix-up, but her mind focused on the news they had just received.
Andrea hated to admit it, but standing next to Daren affected her in a surprising way. As they stood in the elevator, her mind conjured up other times they had shared close quarters and took advantage of the moment.
She smiled to herself as she recalled a similar elevator ride in the beginning of their relationship, which ended with her pressed against the wall underneath him, stealing kisses on the way to their hotel room.
She glanced over at Daren. His thick, wavy black hair fell naturally into place and always looked as if someone had just run a hand through his hair, adorning him boyish charm. His piercing brown eyes competed with his hair for attention, and usually won. Admiring his tall, athletic build in his dark suit, she could tell he had put effort into his appearance for this meeting. She wondered if he had something planned later or if he dressed purposefully for seeing her today. She could smell his cologne, not too strong, just the right amount. He had shaved, leaving just a touch of stubble—the way he knows she likes it. Did he do this for her benefit, to help lessen the blow of today’s meeting? As he stood in the corner of the elevator, for a moment she longed to put her arms around him and feel the strength of the muscles noticeable under his custom suit. Thankful he couldn’t read her thoughts, she hoped he didn’t detect how he affected her.
Life was so unpredictable, and she had not been prepared for what she learned today. Daren would be moving back home after living separately for well over a year. Why was this happening now? She and the kids were finally getting used to their new life. She had gotten over her initial fear of living as a single mother, running the household on her own without a partner present to consult for advice and reassurance. She had to rely on her own instincts and abilities to take care of her children and their home. If she heard a strange noise in the middle of the night, she had to get out of bed herself and investigate instead of cowering in bed while hubby grabbed a bat and checked things out. When Jon fell off a ladder, hit his head, and blacked out, Andrea had rushed him to the hospital by herself. And after the break-up, she had decided to freshen-up the house by repainting and redecorating a few rooms. She even asked the kids for their input, and they made a few color changes here and there to give their home a more comforting feel.
After a while, she had pulled her head up out of the sand and noticed an admirer vying for her attention. Shawn Bennet, a handsome systems analyst consultant for one of her clients, liked Andrea at their first meeting. They enjoyed each other’s company, talked and joked a lot, and he finally asked her out. She accepted, sticking her toe lightly into the dating pool. She was grateful that, knowing of her recent divorce, Shawn considerately allowed their relationship to move at a slow pace. While their dates were nice and usually ended with a kiss, they were progressing slowly to “second base,” as they used to call it when she was a teen.
Thinking of Shawn while in Daren’s presence, made her nervous. She was mortified when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the silver elevator wall and saw her cheeks were turning a deep plum color. She hoped Daren didn’t notice.
At that moment, the elevator door opened and a pack of people rambled in. It was lunchtime, and everybody was heading for the street. The crowd forced Andrea and Daren closer together, over-stepping their self-imposed boundary. The polite distance between them vanished, her left arm and shoulder pressed against Daren’s right. Even his suit jacket and shirt could not disguise the strong-corded muscles of his triceps against her arm. For a moment, she could’ve sworn his shoulders tightened up as she nudged even closer to him. Andrea detected Daren’s body heat, and her own heat caused the band around her bra to become moist and tight. As their arms touched, Andrea felt a familiar twinge. Fighting it, she took a deep breath and released it slowly to settle herself. It didn‘t help. A hint of Daren’s signature woodsy after-shave called out to her and had its usual effect on her senses. She blushed like a smitten high school girl.
The elevator jolted when it stopped at the next floor, shaking the crowd up and causing them all to brace and steady themselves. Daren reached his arm around Andrea to prevent her from falling. She grabbed onto his forearm and felt for herself the firm muscle pressed against her. He’s still working out, feels nice.
“Sorry, thank you,” she managed to eke out at him.
“No problem. Are you okay?” He cast his eyes down at her hand on his arm then held her back to steady her with his other arm.
Her eyes darted up, surprised to see a glimmer of perspiration above his brows. She looked down to where he stared and realized how tightly she held his arm. As she released it, she wondered if the closeness of their bodies affected him as well. Who was she kidding? She glanced around. The crowd of people in the cramped, stuffy elevator had caused him to sweat, not her. Daren was always cool as a cucumber. Nothing got to him. He was a workaholic—too busy and distracted ever to focus on her. Why would he start now?
And as for her heart palpitations? A voice inside declared she had simply overreacted to the news of him moving back home, even though he would be in the guest room. Plus the fact remained that it had been a long time since she’d had sex, and she missed the intimacy. She took in another breath, looking forward to moving things along with Shawn. Being this close to Daren wasn’t good for her. She needed to round third base with Shawn. As her buddy Leslie would say, the best way to get over a man was to get another. And she needed to get over Daren, especially since he was moving back in.
Carolyn Gibbs
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
The atmosphere hung thick and heavy in the plush Providence, Rhode Island, office, even though the air conditioner ran at full blast. An authoritative silence filled the room as Andrea and Daren Elliot sat across from their accountant. The constant hum of the air conditioner and a pencil scribbling on a pad were the only sounds heard while George Baxter studied over their financial records. Every now and then, he cleared his throat and shook his head, oblivious to his client’s presence, lost in the figures in front of him.
“Is it really that bad, George?” asked Daren, who would rather be undergoing a root canal than having his accountant weed through his business and personal records, trying to prevent bankruptcy. He knew what George was reading, and it wasn’t pretty. The damaged economy tore into his company’s profits, and Daren hung on by a fingernail. He needed financial advice and guidance, but his accountant’s request that his ex-wife Andrea attend their meeting had intensified the pressure.
Andrea nervously fidgeted with her coffee cup. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”
“Oh, it’s bad, guys.” George finally glanced at them over his rimless glasses. “You’re barely making it, Daren. This has been a tough quarter for you. It’s plain to see that you’re over-extending yourself. You can’t continue to pay rent for your office space, rent on your apartment, and child support payments.”
Andrea squirmed in her seat at the mention of the child support she received for their two children Jon and Melissa, who had come through the divorce remarkably better than she had. And she would do everything in her power to keep it that way.
“The kids have to be taken care of,” unconsciously slipped out of her mouth.
“Don’t worry, Andrea. I’m not suggesting cutting back child support. As a father myself, I agree the children should come first. I’m saying that Daren can’t afford to maintain his apartment, continue to fulfill his obligation to the children, and adequately run his business, which is his source of income. I’m suggesting that he move back home for a while until he can at least catch up and start seeing a profit again. Be smart and wait for the market to turn around, and save some money in the meanwhile.” George braced himself for the verbal onslaught he anticipated after advising a divorced couple to move back in together. Nevertheless, due to the terrible economy and the housing crunch, accountants across the country were delivering this unfathomable news to their clients daily.
“What? Move in together. Are you kidding? We can’t do that,” Andrea said, absent-mindedly slamming her cup down on the desk, almost cracking it.
“Are you sure there’s nothing left we can do besides that?” Daren remained calm, calmer than his ex.
“I’m afraid that’s the best solution right now for you guys. I know it’s a tough thing to hear, but the records don’t lie. It’s best to give up the apartment and all the expense it entails.”
****
Although Daren might have appeared composed on the outside, inside his stomach twisted in knots. Hearing confirmation spoken aloud that his business teetered on the brink of failure had been hard enough, but having Andrea listening there beside him was a double whammy.
During their ten-year marriage, his business had gone through a few difficult times, but it never prevented him from providing for his family. Daren had prided himself for never bringing his business worries to the dinner table, but that pride had been thwarted when Andrea protested he didn’t bring himself to the dinner table enough. He was a workaholic, which had been a major factor in their break-up. Daren loved his work and spent many hours growing his business with Ron Harrison, his partner and best friend from college. They had both taken pride in all they had accomplished in building Elliot & Harrison Designs, Inc. How poetic that all the time he had spent building their business, growing a client base, and learning the market ultimately ruined his marriage. And now, thanks to the weak economy, the business was taking a nosedive.
“Be careful what you wish for,” his father had told him when Daren confessed how he longed for his own company instead of tirelessly working for someone else. He worked hard to develop the business, but at what cost? He wondered as his eyes fell upon Andrea.
She looked as fabulous as ever. Being single again must agree with her. She looked more relaxed than she did while they were married—that is, before hearing the advice they’d just been given. He dug her new sexy, swingy haircut. He liked how her chin-length, shiny black hair perfectly highlighted her soulful brown eyes. It also revealed her cute cheeks and dimples when she smiled, which she sometimes flashed when he went by to pick up the kids.
He still loved to see her smile, but of course she wasn’t smiling now, and he couldn’t blame her. How did he get them into this mess? She deserved more, and he would work his butt off to make his business work again. Even though he felt like a failure for having to return to their home—the home he was still helping to pay for—the idea of moving back excited him. Sometimes just looking at Andrea and remembering how they used to be sent a jolt of excitement throughout his body and stirred his heart.
When they were married, their first place was so small they kept running into each other, literally, but they didn’t mind. Back then they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. How could he resist her? She was both the smartest and sexiest woman he’d known, and he stupidly let her get away. A flash of Andrea lying in bed wearing one of her short baby doll nightgowns, pink and lacy, waiting for him to join her, sent warmth to his lower body. He remembered how good she looked in baby dolls or anything else she wore. One of the many things that first attracted him to her was how natural and unaware she was of her sex appeal. What other women worked hard to master—the mannerisms, facial expressions, and the sexy sway of her hips while walking—was all organic for her, unrehearsed. Just blinking her eyes and casually tossing her hair could get to him, and she hadn’t a clue. Then Daren came back down to present-day-earth and faced her pained expression.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t get rid of the bed in the guest room,” she said. “I was considering turning it into an office, but now you’ll be sleeping there.”
“Yeah, it’s good you kept the bed,” Daren said, his arousal waning. He knew he had to remain focused in the present if this new living arrangement was going to work. He couldn’t keep gazing at Andrea longingly, especially when she appeared to have moved on.
And of course they had the children to consider in all this. He didn’t want this to be strange or hard on them in any way, but they needed to know this would be only a temporary arrangement and their parents weren’t getting back together again. Although, deep down, he would’ve been all for it. He had a failed marriage under his belt and a business on the brink, but their children were the one shining success he could take pride in.
Although Andrea faulted him for being a workaholic for most of their marriage, he had seriously worked on turning that around since their break-up. He spent time with the children whenever he could. He saw them every other weekend and drove them to school a few times a week. Since the divorce, he realized he spent more time with the children now than when he lived with them. He learned so many little things about them during their weekend visits, like their favorite games, what they liked or hated to eat, and—most importantly—how to get them to laugh. He loved to see them happy, especially when he thought back to his own childhood. His parents hadn’t divorced, but they fought so much that he and his brother often wished they had. He didn’t want his children growing up hearing his parents shouting from room to room, afraid a bomb would go off at any time and blow their lives to shreds. He did the best he could to make sure Jon and Melissa knew they were a family even though their father didn’t live with them.
“Do you want to tell the kids about this, or do you think we should do it together?” he asked.
“If you want, we can tell them together when you come by next time.” Andrea spoke in her gentle, parenting tone of voice. The familiar tenor comforted him during such a difficult time, and he was grateful for that.
Darren stared down at the floor. “That sounds good.”
They said goodbye to George and walked to the elevator together. When Andrea pushed the down button, Daren glanced at her hand. He wasn’t surprised to find her left hand completely bare, not graced with the familiar solitaire diamond engagement ring, which he had so proudly picked out, and stacked above her wedding band. Instead, her soft, ring-less, manicured hand telegraphed to any interested man, I’m single and available.
He glanced down at his own left hand. It was also ring-less; however, he thought of himself as single but not fully available. He had taken their divorce hard and was treading lightly into the dating pool. He had had a few dates since he moved out but nothing much to speak of, and certainly not anything that would cause him to forget the beautiful woman standing next to him.
* * * *
When the empty elevator arrived, they walked in and both reached for the lobby button, their hands colliding. A surge of energy flashed through Andrea as her hand brushed Daren’s, quick like a computer processor working, but she felt it nonetheless. Even though their marriage had ended, and she in fact had been the one who wanted out, being close to Daren still affected her.
”I’m sorry,” he said after their hands connected
“Me too.” She looked up at him while the door shut. She referred to the elevator button mix-up, but her mind focused on the news they had just received.
Andrea hated to admit it, but standing next to Daren affected her in a surprising way. As they stood in the elevator, her mind conjured up other times they had shared close quarters and took advantage of the moment.
She smiled to herself as she recalled a similar elevator ride in the beginning of their relationship, which ended with her pressed against the wall underneath him, stealing kisses on the way to their hotel room.
She glanced over at Daren. His thick, wavy black hair fell naturally into place and always looked as if someone had just run a hand through his hair, adorning him boyish charm. His piercing brown eyes competed with his hair for attention, and usually won. Admiring his tall, athletic build in his dark suit, she could tell he had put effort into his appearance for this meeting. She wondered if he had something planned later or if he dressed purposefully for seeing her today. She could smell his cologne, not too strong, just the right amount. He had shaved, leaving just a touch of stubble—the way he knows she likes it. Did he do this for her benefit, to help lessen the blow of today’s meeting? As he stood in the corner of the elevator, for a moment she longed to put her arms around him and feel the strength of the muscles noticeable under his custom suit. Thankful he couldn’t read her thoughts, she hoped he didn’t detect how he affected her.
Life was so unpredictable, and she had not been prepared for what she learned today. Daren would be moving back home after living separately for well over a year. Why was this happening now? She and the kids were finally getting used to their new life. She had gotten over her initial fear of living as a single mother, running the household on her own without a partner present to consult for advice and reassurance. She had to rely on her own instincts and abilities to take care of her children and their home. If she heard a strange noise in the middle of the night, she had to get out of bed herself and investigate instead of cowering in bed while hubby grabbed a bat and checked things out. When Jon fell off a ladder, hit his head, and blacked out, Andrea had rushed him to the hospital by herself. And after the break-up, she had decided to freshen-up the house by repainting and redecorating a few rooms. She even asked the kids for their input, and they made a few color changes here and there to give their home a more comforting feel.
After a while, she had pulled her head up out of the sand and noticed an admirer vying for her attention. Shawn Bennet, a handsome systems analyst consultant for one of her clients, liked Andrea at their first meeting. They enjoyed each other’s company, talked and joked a lot, and he finally asked her out. She accepted, sticking her toe lightly into the dating pool. She was grateful that, knowing of her recent divorce, Shawn considerately allowed their relationship to move at a slow pace. While their dates were nice and usually ended with a kiss, they were progressing slowly to “second base,” as they used to call it when she was a teen.
Thinking of Shawn while in Daren’s presence, made her nervous. She was mortified when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the silver elevator wall and saw her cheeks were turning a deep plum color. She hoped Daren didn’t notice.
At that moment, the elevator door opened and a pack of people rambled in. It was lunchtime, and everybody was heading for the street. The crowd forced Andrea and Daren closer together, over-stepping their self-imposed boundary. The polite distance between them vanished, her left arm and shoulder pressed against Daren’s right. Even his suit jacket and shirt could not disguise the strong-corded muscles of his triceps against her arm. For a moment, she could’ve sworn his shoulders tightened up as she nudged even closer to him. Andrea detected Daren’s body heat, and her own heat caused the band around her bra to become moist and tight. As their arms touched, Andrea felt a familiar twinge. Fighting it, she took a deep breath and released it slowly to settle herself. It didn‘t help. A hint of Daren’s signature woodsy after-shave called out to her and had its usual effect on her senses. She blushed like a smitten high school girl.
The elevator jolted when it stopped at the next floor, shaking the crowd up and causing them all to brace and steady themselves. Daren reached his arm around Andrea to prevent her from falling. She grabbed onto his forearm and felt for herself the firm muscle pressed against her. He’s still working out, feels nice.
“Sorry, thank you,” she managed to eke out at him.
“No problem. Are you okay?” He cast his eyes down at her hand on his arm then held her back to steady her with his other arm.
Her eyes darted up, surprised to see a glimmer of perspiration above his brows. She looked down to where he stared and realized how tightly she held his arm. As she released it, she wondered if the closeness of their bodies affected him as well. Who was she kidding? She glanced around. The crowd of people in the cramped, stuffy elevator had caused him to sweat, not her. Daren was always cool as a cucumber. Nothing got to him. He was a workaholic—too busy and distracted ever to focus on her. Why would he start now?
And as for her heart palpitations? A voice inside declared she had simply overreacted to the news of him moving back home, even though he would be in the guest room. Plus the fact remained that it had been a long time since she’d had sex, and she missed the intimacy. She took in another breath, looking forward to moving things along with Shawn. Being this close to Daren wasn’t good for her. She needed to round third base with Shawn. As her buddy Leslie would say, the best way to get over a man was to get another. And she needed to get over Daren, especially since he was moving back in.
