A Yuletide Affair Page 4

  “Why doesn’t she date?” Samson asked.

  “Oh, she dates,” said Stephen. “She just doesn’t commit. She’s afraid of letting someone in. Whenever someone gets too close, she runs them away.”

  “Dealing with her seems like so much work.”

  “Alyson Talbot is a lot of work. But I believe when the right guy comes along, she’ll let him in.”

  Samson glanced at Alyson one last time. Her eyes were closed this time.

  The trio reached Harbour Island by nightfall. Samson helped Stephen guide the boat to the deck and secure it with a rope. Stephen helped Alyson climb out, and then he helped Samson. She never looked his way, just stomped toward a bench and sat down, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Give me a minute and I’ll drive you both to the Grove,” Stephen said.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take a cab!” Alyson snapped.

  * * *

  Samson Place was decorated in tropical colors—pink and turquoise. It was tranquil and oozed with romance. It was the sort of place where lovers retreated for long weekends. He watched as Alyson spoke briefly with the young woman at the front desk. The woman handed her a key, and she breezed right past Samson, walking briskly toward the wooden stairwell.

  “I’m sorry, Alyson.” It was his last attempt at penance.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said and kept walking.

  With a long sigh, he pulled his room key out of his pocket and headed for his room, as well.

  “Where have you been?” Samson recognized the voice immediately. Bijou wore a bikini top and a pair of cutoff jeans. Flat stomach, silky smooth legs and leather flip-flops. Her toes were painted in a hot-pink nail polish that matched her bikini top. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Did you forget?”

  “Forget what?” he asked.

  “That we had a date, silly.” Her breasts were perfectly round and buoyant. “Remember, I was going to show you around the island?”

  He didn’t think they’d actually set a date. In fact, he thought they were just making flirtatious small talk. “Was that today?” he asked.

  “You did forget.” She pouted.

  “I can’t today, Bijou. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, no, mister!” She grabbed his arm. “I’m not letting you renege.”

  He couldn’t believe he’d actually agreed to the rendezvous. And there was little he could do to get out of it, so he followed Bijou to an old pickup truck parked in front of Samson Place. Bijou jumped into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut. Samson reluctantly walked around to the other side of the truck, hopped into the passenger’s seat and slammed his door shut. She started the engine, and although the rusty Chevy was in desperate need of a paint job, the engine hummed like it was brand-new. He held on to the door handle as Bijou peeled away from the curb. She tuned the radio to a Caribbean party station and turned up the volume as loud as it would go. He held his breath as she sped through the streets of Harbour Island. He barely heard as she pointed out some of the island’s landmarks. His mind was elsewhere—on Alyson and the anticipation of making amends with her.

  “Let’s go for a swim!” Bijou pulled up at the beach without warning.

  “Let’s not,” he told her. “I didn’t bring any trunks.”

  He didn’t need trunks, but had no desire to take a swim with Bijou. He’d had his fill of swimming in the ocean for one day, and it hadn’t gone well at all.

  “Don’t you want to go skinny-dipping?”

  What man wouldn’t want to skinny-dip with a beautiful woman like Bijou? He’d be crazy not to.

  “Maybe another time,” he said. “You think you could drive me back to the Grove now?”

  “You’re putting me off.” She poked her lip out.

  He didn’t have an answer, and couldn’t believe he was turning down an opportunity to skinny-dip with a beautiful woman. His buddies back home would be giving him the side-eye, wondering if he’d grown soft.

  He managed a smile. “Rain check?”

  Bijou wasn’t giving up without a fight. She untied the strings of her bikini halter top and dropped it. Her breasts sprung to life. He noted that they were a beautiful shade of brown with perky nipples. Her fingertips reached for his face, caressed his temples. She grabbed his hand and slipped his index finger into her mouth. “Still want to go back to the Grove?”

  “Those...are...very beautiful.” He breathed in deeply. There was no denying he was aroused, but he stood his ground.

  He didn’t know when it happened, but Alyson had become his new endeavor, and getting her attention had suddenly become his focus.

  “Glad you like them.” She smiled seductively.

  “Please put your top back on.”

  “Was it something I said?” she asked. “I was too forward.”

  “It’s not you. It’s me.” He sounded like a cliché, but he didn’t care. He had no desire to impress Bijou. “It’s just that I need to get back and speak with someone.”

  “With that woman—Jasmine’s sister. The stuffy one,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s too bad she has such a bad attitude.”

  “She’s beautiful, though,” Samson rebutted.

  “She’s a bit overweight.”

  Samson laughed at Bijou’s cattiness. He thought her jealousy was cute. Alyson was far from overweight, in his opinion. She had curves in all the right places. He thought she was sexy as hell, and couldn’t seem to get her out of his head. Bijou lifted her bikini top back up and tied it around her neck again. She started the truck, put it in Reverse and peeled out of the sand at full speed. He wasn’t sure she was able to drive at a normal pace, or even move at a normal pace, for that matter. A man usually had to work hard for what she was willing to give so freely. Fast was definitely her middle name. A week ago, he’d have appreciated Bijou’s audacity. Women had always been his weakness. He couldn’t think of anything better than a beautiful woman’s body pressed against his. But his priorities were suddenly beginning to change.

  In an attempt to drown the uncomfortable silence in the truck, Bijou turned up the stereo as loud as it would go. He gazed out the window to keep from looking her way. He wanted to apologize to her, but couldn’t find the words. He just needed to be back at the Grove, and it seemed he couldn’t get there soon enough.

  * * *

  He found Alyson in the common area at Samson Place. She was reclined on the tangerine-colored antique sofa, pecking ferociously on the keyboard of her laptop. Instead of approaching her immediately, he found his way to the kitchen. Raquel, one of the Grove’s Bahamian cooks, stood in front of the stove with an apron tied around her generous hips.

  “Can I get two cups of tea, please?” he asked.

  Raquel stopped stirring something in a huge pot, just long enough to look at him. “She likes green tea, with a splash of lemon and just a drizzle of honey,” she said in her sweet Bahamian accent.

  “You mean Alyson?”

  “Yes, Miss Talbot is very specific about her tea, amongst other things,” she said as she placed a fire beneath the teakettle and grabbed two large mugs from the mahogany cabinet. “And how do you like your tea, Mr. Steel?”

  He wondered how she knew his name. It seemed that everyone around the island had become fully acquainted with him.

  “I’ll have mine the same way as hers, I guess.”

  “She’s mad. You know that, right?” Raquel asked. “You messed up royally.”

  “You heard her mention it?”

  “The whole house did.” Raquel shook her head. “Came in here ranting and raving about her time being valuable, and her clothes and hair being ruined.”

  “Wow,” he said.

  “Just be yourself, and apologize profusely.”

  “You think that’ll work?”

  “I’ve known the Talbots for a long time, and it wasn’t that long ago that I changed Alyson’s diapers.” Raquel smiled. “She has a hard exterior, but the truth is, she’s a real softy on t
he inside...if you can manage to get in there.”

  “I don’t see anything soft about Alyson Talbot, except maybe...” He caught himself, realized that he’d said too much. “Never mind.”

  “Now, see, that’s what’s wrong, Mister Steel. You got your priorities all mixed up. Thinking with the wrong head. You’re out gallivanting about town with Bijou, doing God only knows what, and now you want to make amends with Miss Talbot. Such a man!”

  “I didn’t... I mean, Bijou and I didn’t...”

  “I don’t want to hear any of the details, honey. You just need to make up your mind as to what it is that you want.”

  “You know a lot about things, Miss Raquel.”

  “I know about everything that goes on around here,” she told Samson.

  Samson laughed. Where he was from, there was a name for people like Miss Raquel—nosy. Once the teakettle whistled, Raquel made green tea with splashes of lemon and drizzles of honey and then sent him on his way.

  “Now go. Be persistent. No woman wants a mouse of a man.”

  “I’m not a mouse, Miss Raquel. I’m far from that.”

  “Well, good! Because she’s strong and needs someone to take charge. And don’t take no for an answer.” She didn’t smile, but gave him a nod. “Now, go on, child.”

  “Thank you.”

  He cautiously stepped out of the kitchen and headed toward the area where Alyson was engrossed in her computer. He placed the mug on the rustic coffee table in front of her. “Just the way you like it,” he said.

  She stopped pecking on her keyboard for a second, looked up at him and then at the cup. “And how do you know how I like it?”

  “I have my sources.”

  “Raquel has a big mouth.” She began typing again.

  “I need you to accept my apology. What I did was juvenile and thoughtless.” He plopped down in the chair opposite the sofa.

  “Already forgotten.” She grabbed the cup and took a sip. A look of satisfaction briefly appeared on her face.

  “Could’ve fooled me. You keep giving me these looks of disgust—scowling at me.”

  “Maybe it’s your own imagination. Don’t give yourself so much credit,” she said.

  “So you’re not scowling at me?”

  “Nope,” she lied, and then changed the subject. “Did you enjoy your evening?”

  “You mean my tour of the island? I did indeed.”

  “And I’m sure you enjoyed your beautiful tour guide, as well.”

  “Bijou is a nice girl.”

  “I agree. Hopefully she doesn’t get taken advantage of by the likes of you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean—‘the likes of me’?”

  “Playboy, philanderer. You choose the term.”

  “I love women. That’s not something I can argue. In some circles I might be considered a playboy, if you will.” He wasn’t helping his case very much. “But right now I have my sights on one woman—and one woman only.”

  “And who might that be?”

  “The one who’s giving me the hardest time, who won’t let things go.”

  “I don’t dwell on things, Mr. Steel.”

  “Then have dinner with me tomorrow evening. Give me a chance to redeem myself.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Of course you can. You have to eat. Rock House at seven. I’m not taking no for an answer. Be there at seven. And don’t be late.” He stood and headed for the stairwell before she had an opportunity to run down a hundred excuses why she couldn’t make it. He took Raquel’s advice and stood his ground.

  Raquel was peeking out from the kitchen and gave him a wink as he passed. He gave her a wide grin and then headed up to his room. Didn’t even turn to see the expression on Alyson’s face. He was sure she was astounded.

  Chapter 6

  Friday morning, and she’d almost forgotten that she’d committed to tasting wedding cakes with her sister.

  “I don’t know who he thought he was, barking orders at me as if...” Alyson stuffed a fork filled with red velvet cake into her mouth “...oh, my God, that’s good!”

  “I’m partial to the white Amaretto. And oh, Lord, the chocolate Bavarian crème is simply delightful.” Jasmine took a forkful of her sister’s red velvet and tasted it. “But oh, this red velvet.”

  “I’m telling you right now, Jazzy, I am not at all interested in that man!” Alyson eyeballed the baker who sat across the table from them. She tried to lower her voice to a whisper. “He’s so...so...egotistical.”

  “He seems very nice and genuine to me,” Jasmine countered. “And you have to admit he’s gorgeous. Isn’t he?”

  “He’s a womanizer. Already running about town with that young woman from the band.”

  “Bijou? Oh, she’s much too young for him. And not at all his type.”

  “Could’ve fooled me. And what would you know about his type? Do you even know this man?” Alyson asked her. “Does Jackson even know him? I know they claim to be friends, but how long has it been since he’s seen him last?”

  “They’ve been friends for years. And Jackson knows him very well. He’s a great guy, Alyson,” Jasmine said. “You should give him a chance.”

  “I don’t trust him.” Alyson licked cream cheese frosting from the side of her finger. “What does he even do for a living?”

  “Well, as I understand it, he was an assistant district attorney for years. But recently he decided to run for mayor, and there were some issues that surfaced with his campaign. I don’t know all the details, but I understand there was a little scandal of some sort. There were rumors that he’d accepted some bribes. Somebody had it in for him.”

  “See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about! Scandalous.”

  “None of it was true,” said Jasmine. “But he was so devastated, he decided to come over here to clear his head and regroup.”

  “You mean run away from his troubles.”

  “That’s not what I said, Alyson. And I think you should stop being so judgmental. Give the man a break. Go to dinner! Find out who he is for yourself.”

  “Not interested,” said Alyson. “And I’ll let him know that no one gives me orders. No one!”

  Alyson pulled out her cell phone to check the text message that had just come through. Jennifer Madison wanted to know why the full-price offer on Madison Place had fallen through. She didn’t have the nerve to tell her that the buyer had changed his mind—found another home that suited him better. She needed the property to sell, and she needed it to happen soon. She had bills looming over her head.

  “Thank you for filling in for Jackson today, sis. He hates that he’s not able to participate in all the little details of the wedding.” Jasmine grabbed Alyson’s hand. “But I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Me, too.” Alyson smiled. “But don’t get used to me being here all the time, Jazzy, and I mean it. My life is in Miami. And I have a business there, too.”

  “I know. I know. But I’m just glad you’re here now.”

  “I’m leaving on Monday. Have an early flight out,” said Alyson. “You should come with me. Maybe we can visit a few bridal boutiques, look at some dresses. Maybe you’ll finally fall in love with one.”

  “I might take you up on that. Jackson won’t be back until next Friday.”

  “We’ll leave on the first flight out in the morning,” Alyson said. “I’ll have Jules check rates for you.”

  “We’ll be back by the week’s end, right? We’re having our family dinner next Saturday. Did you forget?”

  She hadn’t forgotten. Family dinners at the Talbots’ home weren’t an option. You were expected to be there when you lived as close as Florida. Their siblings who lived in Atlanta and Texas were given a pass. And their youngest brother, Denny, who was training in the Royal Bahamas, would also be absent. But Jasmine, Alyson and their brother Edward, who also lived in Florida, were expected to show up.

  “I didn’t forget,” Alyson said. “How could I when Mot
her has reminded me every single day this week that I’m preparing the macaroni and cheese.”

  “Macaroni and cheese? You got off easy,” said Jasmine. “I’m doing the conch salad and conch fritters.”

  “It’s because you still live at home. You get all the grunt work.” Alyson laughed. “Maybe once you move into your own home, you’ll get some relief.”

  “It’s so hard living with them sometimes. Always keeping tabs on me as if I’m still a kid. But with Jackson working and traveling so much, I prefer to be there with them. It’s better than being alone in some empty house.”

  “You’ll be a married woman soon. And maybe your husband will quit working so much and spend more time at home, so you don’t have to spend so much time with the old people.” Alyson laughed. “Sitting on the porch listening to Daddy’s stories of the old days.”

  “I love Daddy’s stories.” Jasmine giggled.

  “I bet you don’t have an ounce of privacy. And how many nights do they sip on sky juice and play George Symonette albums?”

  Both women laughed. While they enjoyed contemporary Caribbean artists, they knew that their parents still preferred old-school calypso and goombay music styles. It was what they knew and loved, and what the Talbot children grew up listening to.

  “Every Saturday night I’m listening to George Symonette while Mother dances around the room, a highball in her hand. Daddy has to pry the glass from her and put her to bed,” said Jasmine. “She’s sipping on the sky juice more often these days.”

  “She’s worried about Denny,” Alyson said. “He should’ve gone to college like the rest of us.”

  Beverly Talbot hadn’t been the least bit happy with her son’s choice for his future. She’d particularly made a fuss when she learned that her baby boy would be shipped away to the US to be trained with the navy SEALs.

  “He followed his heart,” Jasmine defended Denny. She’d had many conversations with him about his choice. He’d been brave, in her opinion.

  “The rest of us didn’t have the luxury of following our hearts,” said Alyson, “except maybe you, when you went tramping off to California looking for the next acting and modeling gig.”