Chapter 8
“So friendly questions?” Charlotte’s gaze shot down to the white shirt that barely covered the top of her thighs then eyed his boxers and snug t-shirt. “Because we’re friends.”
“Well, I don’t often share my bed with someone I don’t like.” Grinning, Sam moved to the top of the bed and pulled back the sheets, inviting her to join him. “Come on.”
Charlotte stood until he got comfortable on his side of the bed before easing under the covers.
“Can I continue?” He sat up straight and turned to her. Stephanie’s list of icebreaker questions was a good one. Some topics were fairly benign—ever been on a blind date or gone skinny dipping?—but others were hot and sexy—dirtiest sexting conversation or threesomes or moresomes?
What should he ask Charlotte?
“Okay.” Facing him, she adjusted the pillows behind her back. “But when do I get my turn?”
“Later.” He winked at her. “So, if you had the chance to go to the Fantasy resort our guests are headed to, would you take it?”
“This is a friendly question?”
“It is.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, then. Oh, I don’t think so.”
“No? A week to do what you want, be who you want?”
She pulled the covers a little tighter around her. “Sam, I know you’ve had a chance to take a good look at the women here. They’re beautiful, nice, accomplished. If they weren’t so accomplished they couldn’t afford a week there. I’d be lost in a place like that.” She pressed her lips together and sighed. “But it might be fun to get away, feel sexy...”
“You need to get away to feel sexy...?” Didn’t she know she looked sexy, breathed sexy every minute of every day?
“Charlotte, you’re the most beautiful woman I know. But that’s not why you’re special. I don’t think you know how deserving and worthy you are?” He leaned forward and touched his hand to her cheek. “For everything you want in life.”
“Thank you,” she replied, her big blue eyes wide. “That’s nice of you to say.”
He sat back again. If only she would believe him. “So what’s your favorite thing to do when you’re not with me?”
“Well, that’s my favorite thing, of course,” she teased.
“Okay, then after that?”
“Probably making princess cakes for eager little girls at my bakery. I love it more than I can say.” Her face lit up. “I wasn’t able to have anything like that when I was a little girl, so...Hold on a sec.” She slid from the bed and reached for the cell phone in her purse. “I don’t think I showed you my cakes when you hired me.”
Sitting upright in bed, Charlotte happily tapped at her phone and flipped from one image to the next. “I’m really proud of these.” She showed him her screen with dozens of pictures of cakes as whimsical gardens, fairy tale castles and edible works of art. Each one was stunning with fine, exquisite detail.
“I’ve seen some of these on your Instagram page.” More than a few times, he’d scanned her social media and stared at her creations. How did she do it? Besides the fabulous cakes, her page was packed with photos of smiling little girls.
Thankfully, she was his every late afternoon—except Sundays.
She leaned back on her pillows, her gaze narrowing with surprise. “You’ve looked at my Instagram page?”
He nodded slowly. “You have a lot to be proud of.”
Heavy sheets of rain zipped right past the French doors, and the whole frame shuddered.
Charlotte cried out and scooted closer to Sam. She grabbed his bicep then quickly released it. “Sorry.”
“I don’t mind,” he said and tapped at a picture on her screen. “Charlotte, this might be my favorite shot. You in that pink apron...”
“My pink apron?” She blinked up at him, then glanced down at the image. Charlotte in her bakery garb, a big, happy smile on her face. “I have a couple of pink aprons.”
“I’m particularly fond of this one,” he confessed. More than a few times he’d imagined untying the apron and then taking off what was beneath it.
“Oh.”
“So time for some sexier questions?”
“Okay, I’m ready.” She lifted her shoulders in an exaggerated shrug.
“You do more than work and sleep. When was the last time you had sex?”
She winced. “Can I say I don’t remember?”
“No.”
“Okay,” she grumbled. “Sixteen months ago.” She dropped her head onto her pillow and covered her eyes with her palms.
Sixteen months? That was a surprise. “Really?”
She nodded and sat up again. “I’m super busy.”
“What happened to Mr. Sixteen Months ago?”
She shrugged, but the glimmer in her pretty eyes faded. “It didn’t work out.” She swallowed hard, her gaze darting away. “Our schedules conflicted. I had to cancel twice, and he didn’t like that.”
“Sorry.”
“It was for the best.”
Sam nodded. He got it. Just because something was for the best didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell.
When she didn’t say more, Sam smiled down at her. She wasn’t making this easy.
“Who was your first kiss?”
“Um... Jack Drew.”
“Any good?”
“No.” She made a face, and he laughed. “I’m surprised I wanted to kiss anybody else after that.”
“Who took your virginity?”
“Steve Olsen—and before you ask, it was terrible.”
“Sounds like you’ve had some bad luck.” And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “Best kiss?”
“Um...”
“You know what I hope you’ll say.”
“Sam...” She looked away and shook her head. “God, I can’t wait until it’s my turn to ask questions.”
“Then describe a best kiss.”
“Oh...um...a best kiss.” She touched her lips. “First, I’m excited for it, my heart is thumping, and I’m a little breathless. And maybe a hand cradles my cheek or holds my shoulder. It’s soft and sweet and then maybe not so soft and sweet with warm lips and a tongue that...”
“A tongue that what?” he asked.
“Knows what it’s doing.”
“How was our first kiss?”
“Nice.”
“Can I try again?”
For a long moment, she stared at him and then slowly nodded, her eyes wide and bright.
Sam leaned forward and cupped her cheek with his palm. His lips brushed against hers, first kissing her bottom lip and then moving to her top lip. She trembled, and he pulled back slightly, placing small kisses on the side of her mouth. “Okay, so far?”
Charlotte nodded, and Sam pressed his lips to hers once more, then took the kiss further, deeper, and eased his tongue into her mouth. Charlotte gasped and clutched his shoulders as their tongues touched, playful and light, and he slowly explored her mouth. This was just as he remembered.
He didn’t want the kiss to stop, but after a long moment, he gently shifted back. “How was that?”
She pulled in a breath, her eyes even wider than before. “Good.” Her voice turned breathy. “Really good.”
“Only good? I guess I’ll have to keep working on it.”
Charlotte gripped their bedding and shifted back on her pillows. “I think it should be my turn to ask questions now.”
“Ask away.”
She grinned back at him. “There are so many things I could ask.”
“Nothing’s off the table, Charlotte.”
“Let me think. I could ask about your wildest time—and I don’t mean in your grandmother’s basement—or your biggest threesome or moresome or...”
“Or you can ask it all.”
“Okay.” She propped herself a little higher on her pillows. “Tell me...”
Before she could get out the first question, a hard something slammed near the French doors. Charlotte jumped and grabbed for Sam as the room shook. What was that?
“Hold on.” Sam slipped out of the bed and ran toward the noise. “Shit. The shutters broke off,” he grumbled. “And I think the hinge is broken too.”
Charlotte sat up straight in bed, watching. “Is that all?”
Sam lifted his shoulders and shrugged then glanced out the French door windows. “The rain’s died down a bit. I’m going to take a quick look outside.”
“Are you sure it’s okay to do that?”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine.”
Outside, the rain came down like a persistent drizzle. Sam wiped at his eyes and walked carefully on the slick tiled balcony that surrounded his casita and hers. He took a few minutes to check all the windows and shutters of the casitas as well as the palm thatch awnings over the windows and the bamboo pieces that made up the balcony. Thankfully, the only problem was the shutters around his French doors. It would be easy to fix after the storm.
Sam walked back to the entrance of his casita and opened the door. “Looks like everything is fine,” he called out then quickly shut his mouth. Charlotte lay fast asleep on a pile of pillows on the bed.
Sam grabbed a towel from the bathroom and blotted his hair then crawled into bed beside her. Using as much care as he could, he adjusted her head and neck on the pillows and kissed her forehead. “You’ve had a long, busy day, sweetheart. I hope you’re beginning to see how I see you.”