Page 55 of Perfume Girl
I left the cabin to let her get dressed. One more second in that cabin and I would’ve been tempted to take her again.
I had made the wrong moves at the wrong time—and now there was no going back to salvage what could have been between us. Anyway, we were oceans apart.
It was over.
The harbor’s lights reflected off the water, welcoming us back to the mainland. I exhaled a shaky breath, realizing how much last night had affected me. Raquel had breached my defenses and all I could think about was burying my face between her thighs and tasting her again, having her arch her back and scream my name.
Like she had last night…
This never happened.
For some reason those words stung more than they should.
ANOTHER CASUALTY OF DIVORCE, OTHERthan having your heart shattered into a trillion pieces, is the loss of your friends. I reasoned they felt they had to choose between me and Damien, and as he was the master chef who wowed during our late night dinner parties, he’d effortlessly stolen the show and them along with it. Throw in a celebrity girlfriend and I didn’t stand a chance as the ex who has a thing for smells.
So when Taylor Lee, my new friend from The House of Beauregard, invited me to a weekend market with the promise of open stalls, live music, and the flow of Caribbean coffees, I took her up on the invite to Clearwater.
The Sunday drive to the country club was pleasant and the weather a perfect blend of sunny and breezy. I could never drive past one of the many lakes and not wonder if an alligator was lurking beneath the surface, but most of the wildlife wasn’t as scary. Seeing pelicans do a fly-by over my car gave me a rush of happiness.
Today would be fun and it was good to get out.
Taylor was the first person at work to befriend me, and as Mr. Beauregard’s executive assistant I figured she’d be an asset. When the time was right I’d casually lead the conversation around to Astor.
She didn’t need to know about Havana.
That would remain my deepest, darkest secret, which I replayed when I was alone with nothing but time during the quiet hours of the night.
Nothing had changed with my plan, even after that passionate rendezvous. Astor had avoided me since…or maybe it was me avoiding him. I’d not searched him out at work to ask about the mutual project he wanted us to work on. It was better this way. It meant I could take the time I needed to research the lab and snoop at will.
I was destined to hate him, and that amazing, mind-blowing sex had merely been a detour on my way back to my old life. Though very little of my old life had survived.
Astor had been kind of fun, actually, with his dimpled smile and that intense stare that made me tingle. It had been his alluring cologne that had seeped into my consciousness and forced me to let my guard down. He’d been a scent trap I’d fallen for.
Never, ever, again.
Yes, the passion had been the most incredible I’d experienced, but when you were dealing with a playboy who’d had plenty of opportunities to practice his talents beneath the sheets it was a given he’d be great in bed.
Memories flooded in and made me blush.
I’d been so quick to leave Cuba and so willing to deny myself any more pleasure—but in my defense I wasn’t meant to be there. It was clearly the intimacy I’d been craving, and now that it was quenched I could move on and forgethim.
Chewing my lip, I wondered if Astor liked to dance. Not that I cared, not really. Had we liked each other differently I may have brought it up in conversation. Not sure why I was even thinking about it now.
Still, thoughts of him made it easier to cope with my divorce.
Perhaps I should move away. Colorado Springs was my first choice, with its romantic setting at the eastern foot of the Rocky Mountains. I loved the snow in winter and the beautiful way the leaves changed in the fall. Though Florida had the warm, sunny days covered and this state had been my home for years. If I did leave I’d miss the ocean views, palm trees, and my beloved wildlife. I mean, where else could you watch fish jump out of the water at sunset, or see curious dolphins trailing alongside your boat?
I’d have to make sure I stayed away from the places that brought the kind of memories I wished would fade. Damien and been my first, and with those edgy tattoos he had intrigued me enough to sayyesto a date when my gut had screamedno. And all that followed was me not listening to that small inner voice.
As I drove through the country club’s crowded lot looking for a place to park, I realized the knot in my stomach had eased. I was being brave enough now to analyze where we’d begun so I could better understand how we had ended, and for some reason it felt less painful. That gut-wrenching ache was easing.
I parked and strolled toward the market with a bounce in my step.
The hustle and bustle of locals and tourists gave this place a family atmosphere. Crossing the street, I headed toward The Breakfast Club Café.
Taylor was sitting in a corner booth. She rose to wave and then pointed to the coffee she’d bought for me on the table. Her bobbed hair and soft make-up made her look pretty. She was thirty, maybe, and had swapped out her snazzy business suit for ripped jeans and a leather jacket.
When I saw her helmet I gave her an impressed grin. “Where is it?”
