It was agonizing.
When she shifted her weight, the hem of her T- shirt slid up over her taut belly, exposing her velvety skin to his arms. She clung to him like a little monkey, and in her sleep she wrapped her leg around his, rubbing the inner part of her thigh against his bare torso. The contact took his breath away and he found himself staring into the darkness, wishing he would just fall asleep. Logic told him he should just fall asleep. He had spent the day picking three-quarters of a ton of sea urchin. He was exhausted.
At four in the morning, he gave up. Untangling himself from her body, he stood up, went to the bathroom, and looked at himself in the mirror, willing his hours-old hard-on to go away.
“What the hell?” he whispered.
When he was reasonably calm, he scratched a note for Eve in the dark and left the slip of paper on his pillow.
Gone surfing. Sleep as much as you want. Be back this afternoon. Dinner?
He suppressed the urge to write XOXO like a seventh-grade girl.
After grabbing a banana from the kitchen counter, he loaded his board into his truck and took off for Hammonds Reef, eager to clear his head on a solid west swell.
****
Drowsy and happy, Eve curled on her side and breathed in the scent of her pillow. The warm, sexy musk of Sam’s skin flooded her pleasure centers.
Her skin tingled, drinking in as much his scent as she could. Her nipples hardened. A rising heat pooled between her legs.
Then her eyes shot open, and she jumped out of the bed as if it was on fire.
“What the hell?” she said to herself.
She rubbed the bridge of her nose and tried to get lucid. She remembered Sam carrying her up the stairs. She remembered reaching for him in the night, holding him tightly as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. She glanced at the note on his pillow.
That’s not the kind of note a boss leaves an employee.
While she showered, Eve tried to shake off the feeling that she was in over her head. She was here to work—she needed the money for her new apartment. Her contract with Sam was temporary. When his co- diver recovered, Eve would be able to go out and find a cooking job, which was the whole reason she had come to California in the first place.
As she rinsed the shampoo out of her hair, she had to suppress a shudder. She had promised herself that this would never happen again. No falling in love recklessly. No messing around with the boss. And here she was, doing both of those things all over again. Idiot.
After she made the bed, got dressed, and packed up all of her things, Eve turned the note around and wrote a terse one to Sam.
Moving into my new place today.
She locked Sam’s door behind her and snuck out before Judith arrived to open the store.
With her backpack on her back, she started on the six-mile bike trek up into the hills of Montecito. The overcast sky and cool breeze made for easy riding, and soon she was pedaling up Bolero Drive to her new home, a rambling single-story ranch house behind a high hedge in one of Santa Barbara County’s fanciest neighborhoods.
She keyed in the gate code and walked her bike down the herringbone brick driveway and over the walkway that led to the entrance of the attached guesthouse. A huge pine tree shaded the property’s enormous front lawn, but behind the house was a panoramic view of the Santa Ynez Mountains.
She leaned her bike against the railing on the steps leading up to the entrance of the guesthouse. The reverberating bump of loud music resounded in her chest cavity even before she opened the door.
Ginuwine’s “Pony” blasted out of the state-of-the- art sound system. The living room of the guesthouse had been converted into a dance studio complete with wood floors and floor-to-ceiling mirrors on three walls. In the middle of the high-ceilinged room was a twelve- foot brass pole around which Tiffani, dressed in a sports bra and hot pants, ran through her floor work and spins. Eve put down her bags and took off her sunglasses.
She stood by the door and watched Tiffani for a minute or two. Impeccably tanned and fit, Tiffani had a mane of chocolate brown hair she tossed back and forth like a pro. She was not tall, but she was built like a firecracker, with a tiny waist and beautiful dancer’s legs. It was hard to tell how old she was.
After a moment or two, Tiffani gave her a winning smile.
“Hold on!” She skipped over to the controls of the sound system. She turned the music down and off.
“You surprised me! Just give a holler next time and I’ll stop,” Tiffani said in her smoky Southern accent.
“Stop?” said Eve. “Are you kidding? I like watching you dance. That was amazing!”
“Thanks, sugar.” Tiffani wiped the back of her neck with a towel. “I’ve still got a long way to go. Do you dance?”
Eve snorted. “No. Not at all.”
Tiffani looked her up and down, but not in an unfriendly way. “You’re cute, though. I could teach you if you wanted.” She looked at the bags that Eve brought in. “Where’s the rest of your stuff?” she asked.
“The rest?” said Eve. “This is everything.”
“Two bags? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman who packed so light.”
Eve shrugged. “Keeps things easy,” she said with a smile.
“Easy is how we like things,” said Tiffani. She grabbed Eve’s backpack as Eve took her messenger bag. “Let me show you to your new bedroom. Follow me.”
The bedroom that Tiffani brought Eve to was bigger than Sam’s entire apartment. Professionally decorated, its red walls were hung with Chinese paintings. It had a walk-in closet, a king-size bed with a heavy silk duvet, an enormous TV, and its own bathroom with a sunken tub. A sliding glass door opened onto a patio with an outdoor kitchen, fire pit, and enough patio furniture to seat two dozen people. A small stairway led up the terraced hillside to a lawn and a crystal-blue swimming pool that glittered in the Santa Barbara sunshine. “Maid service on Mondays and Thursdays,” said Tiffani, putting Eve’s bag in the absurdly large closet. “She’ll do your laundry, too, no problem. Just leave everything in the hamper and she’ll sort it out. You can use the kitchen whenever you want.
Herbert never uses it himself. He gives me an enormous budget for food, so if you ever want to go food shopping, just let me know and I’ll bring the credit card. Let’s see. What else? You can use the pool whenever you want. And the Jacuzzi’s in the corner of the lawn up there. It’s always heated. Thermostat’s by the front door. The firepit’s gas, so all you have to do is flip a switch.”
Eve’s face must have said everything she was thinking. Tiffani took the messenger bag off her shoulder and placed it on the chest of drawers.
“I know,” Tiffani said, smiling. “It’s paradise. I love it here.”
“Any house rules?” Eve asked, sitting down on the bed like she was afraid to get it dirty.
Tiffani opened the sliding door and let the sagebrush-scented breeze in. She frowned as if she couldn’t come up with any. “I suppose…don’t mention to Herbert that I’m charging you money to live here. He thinks you’re my sister, of course.”
“But…I don’t really look like you,” Eve said, looking at her own reflection in the mirror. Her hair was messy from the bike ride, and her skin was blotchy and burnt where it wasn’t white as snow. Tiffani was a bronzed, tanned goddess.
Tiffani shook her head and smiled. “For a venture capitalist, Herbert’s not too bright, sugar. I told him you’re my half-sister. We have the same daddy but not the same momma. You were raised by your momma and I was raised by mine. We reunited this year. Hallelujah, praise Jesus.”
Eve studied Tiffani. “This might be a little rude,
but…why do you need the money?”
A twinkle came to Tiffani’s eye. “Same reason I’ve got to work tonight at The Royal Flush. I’ve been saving every little penny I earn on my own. Your money’s going to give me a little boost. I want to start something nice for myself. Something that’s going to take care of me when Herbert won’t.” Tiffani grabbed her hand and pulled her up off the bed. “Tell you what,” she said, the twinkle in her eye fixed firmly in place, “You got a tank top? Some shorts?”
“I think so,” said Eve with trepidation.
“Take off your shoes and jewelry and go change clothes. I’m going to show you some moves, sugar.”
Eve laughed outright, one honking guffaw of disbelief. “Oh, my God. No.”
“Oh, yes. Get changed, girl. We’re going to get you on the pole!”
After twenty minutes of push and pull that required all of Tiffani’s gifts of persuasion, Eve changed into a tank top and an ancient pair of running shorts. She stood in the middle of the living room looking at herself in the mirror and wondering why she was such a pushover.
Tiffani wiped down the pole with a terrycloth towel and some alcohol. “This keeps your hands dry and cool,” she said, motioning to the towel. “Wipe the pole down whenever you need to.”
She went over to the music player and turned on something sweet and funky, “Let Your Love Come Down” by Evelyn Champagne King. The fun music helped Eve relax, but only a little.
“I’m going to show you the fireman spin,” said Tiffani. “For beginners, it’s gorgeous. I’ll do it once
and break it down. And then you try. Okay?”
Eve gave her a doubtful look, but she nodded.
The lesson took ten minutes. Tiffani watched as Eve followed her instructions, leaning away from the pole and using gravity to power the spin. Three more tries and Eve was able to do it. Soon she was smiling at her own reflection in the mirror as she spun around the pole, her legs crossed powerfully, her arms long and lean, her long hair trailing behind her as though she were on a merry-go-round.
“You’re stronger than you look, sugar,” said Tiffani. “Not a lot of women can hold themselves up on the pole like that on their first try.”
Eve thought momentarily of the crates and boxes her father had made her haul in the restaurant, of the dripping mesh bags of sea urchins weeping slime over the deck of Sam’s boat.
“Maybe, but you’re a good teacher.” She smiled. “Can we do it again?”