Page 86 of Letters From Victor

I let the question hang between us, the air electric, crackling with anticipation. Then, deliberately, I set the camera down.

Two strides. That’s all it took to close the distance.

“Nothing.”

Waves crashed and receded on the dark beach below. The crisp night air was thick with salt. I lounged on a deck chair, a loose Hawaiian shirt draped casually over my shoulders with the first few buttons undone, and my linen trousers cuffed at the ankles. I didn’t dress down often, but it seemed appropriate given the setting—and the woman who made me feel more at home than any place ever had.

I toyed with a glass of bourbon, its contents swirling lazily in the dim moonlight that filtered through the cloud canopy. My fingers itched for a cigarette.

A door slid open, drawing my attention, and I looked up to see Barbara step onto the deck. She wore a pair of cuffed jeans and one of my dress shirts, the oversized garment hanging loosely on her slender frame. Her hair was a tousled halo, and she moved with an easy, unhurried grace.

“You know,” she said, pausing for effect, hands running over her hips, “this is the first time I’ve ever worn pants.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised but also amused. “Is that so?” I set my bourbon down on a nearby table. “They suit you.”

She shrugged, though the way she shifted under my gaze told me she was pleased. “Edith gave them to me a while back, but they’ve been sitting in the box ever since. She loves wearing pants, but I wasn’t sure I could pull it off.”

“You can pull off anything,” I said, letting my eyes trace the lines of her body. The denim hugged her curves in all the right places, giving her an air of casual confidence that was effortlessly sexy. “You look incredible.”

She bit her lower lip, a gesture that was both modest and playfully coy. “It’s different, that’s all. I’m used to dresses andskirts. And I can hear Mother chiding me that they aren’t ladylike.” She rolled her eyes.

“Sometimes a change is good,” I said, beckoning her with a slow curl of my fingers.

She hesitated for a moment, then walked over and slid onto the lounge chair with me, her body nestling against mine. The intoxicating scent of her perfume mixed with the ocean air and a lingering trace of our earlier passion.

I draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. “I like seeing this side of you,” I murmured into her ear. “More relaxed, more…real.”

“I’ve never seen you dressed casually before,” she remarked, her fingers playing with the loose fabric of my shirt. “It’s always a tailored suit or…nothing at all.”

She turned her gaze toward the restless ocean, opening her mouth and then closing it again as if weighing whether to speak. She decided against it. A blush spread across her cheeks, warm and luminous in the soft glow of the deck lights.

I smiled, enjoying the rare moment of vulnerability from her. “What’s on your mind, sweet angel?”

She bit her lip—soft, uncertain. “It’s silly,” she admitted after a long pause.

“Now you have to tell me.”

Barbara took a deep breath, as if summoning the courage to dive into deep waters. “Do you remember when I first came to work for you? As your secretary?”

“Of course. You were terrified of me,” I teased, though we both knew it wasn’t true.

“I most certainly was not.” She shot me a look but softened almost immediately. “I’ll admit I was intimidated,” she corrected. “But also…fascinated.” She searched my face for something—permission, perhaps—for what she was about to reveal. “After my second day, I had a dream about you.”

My lips curved into a sly smile. “Oh?”

“In the dream,” she continued hesitantly, “you were at a beach house like this one. You wore a loose shirt and trousers—just like now. You looked…different. Softer.”

I slid a hand around her waist, letting my fingers skim the fabric of my shirt she wore, tracing slow, deliberate patterns. “Dreaming about your employer? Tsk, tsk. And here I thought you were the picture of propriety.” My voice was low, teasing, an edge of possession creeping in. “Tell me, darling—what exactly happened in this dream?”

She paused, savoring the moment. “You went to kiss me,” she said, her tone almost wistful. “But just as your lips touched mine, I woke up. A blasted thunderstorm ruined it.”

I chuckled softly, the sound blending with the distant roar of the surf. “A thwarted kiss. How tragic.”

“Not so tragic. The next day,” she continued, “you took me for a drive and brought me out here for the first time. So I got a real kiss from you instead. And that was a much better deal.”

I smiled. “Prophetic.”

“And now,” she added, her voice growing softer, “it’s like I’m living that dream. Except this time, the kiss isn’t interrupted.”

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