Текст книги "What Emma Craves"
Автор книги: Amanda Abbott
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 13 страниц)
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Pete wrapped a towel around his waist as he emerged from the shower. “You know, we don’t have to meet them for dinner.” It was a casual suggestion he hoped his wife would consider. “We can just order room service.”
“We did that last night,” Emma said from her spot by the closet. “Plus, I’m dying to see the formal dining room and watch the sunset. Hurry up, we only have twenty minutes at most to get there. We told them we’d meet for drinks on the patio first, and the sun is setting in less than a half hour.”
Pete wanted to grumble, but kept it to himself.
After they’d lunched on the yacht, Antonio had tried to persuade them all to go to another island to snorkel, but Pete had successfully swayed Emma to come back to the villa, with the promise that they’d meet them for dinner later.
Emma and Pete had taken a dip in their pool, and then had a long nap. They’d both been exhausted from traveling the day before and rising early. It had been a nice afternoon together, but they hadn’t talked once about their encounter with the group on the beach. Pete had been hesitant to bring it up after what Mallory and Charlotte had told him.
If Antonio was really after his wife, arguing with Emma wasn’t the answer. The guy had it all. He could build Emma the mansion of her dreams, take her on trips around the world, and shower her with gifts. Antonio had the means Pete did not. The girls had persuaded him to play it cool and go along with what Emma wanted for now. If he pushed back, they’d said, she could fall right into Antonio’s waiting arms.
He wasn’t sure he believed them.
His instinct was to stalk over, knock the guy out, and take Emma over his shoulder like a caveman.
When he’d seen Antonio swim up to his wife, he’d almost done it, too.
When the girls pushed the game of Marco Polo on him, he’d thought they’d been out of their minds. But it’d worked. Antonio left, and Pete had made his wife happy.
Once they returned to the yacht, Pete had made sure that Emma sat next to him. Mallory had helped in the galley with the food, and since it was so small, there was no room for anyone else.
Antonio putting the moves on Emma still rankled him, but he was keeping it to himself. For now. If Pete insisted on breaking their dinner plans, he would look like a complete asshole.
“It’ll be fun,” Emma said. “You’ll see.” Pete balked as Emma closed the closet doors and turned toward him.
“Are you wearing that dress without a bra?”
The dress was a frothy peach color and completely see-through. It made her areolas stand out like they’d been painted with a rose-colored paintbrush.
“Yes, I am.” Emma set her hands on her hips. “Charlotte said people come to dinner dressed, but always very provocatively. Women routinely wear skimpy outfits with no panties or bra, so I’m just playing along. We are at a swinger resort, Pete, which you know better than anyone. And it was your idea to come here, not mine.”
“Emma, every guy in there is going to have a hard-on the moment you come in. Nobody is going to be able to eat their dinner. Turn around.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Your ass is visible. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it looks as good as it did in those bikini bottoms. The peach color makes it sort of…glow.”
Emma chuckled. “Now you’re just being silly. We’re having dinner with a supermodel. No one is going to notice me.”
“Emma, have you looked in the mirror lately?”
“Why are you being so complimentary all of a sudden? You see me every single day, and you never comment on how I look. Come on, let’s go.” She walked her amazing backside over to the sliding glass door. “I want to take the beach to get there.”
Pete had no choice but to follow her out.
Was she right? Did he never compliment her at home? That would have to change. His wife always looked fantastic, and he’d apparently been taking that for granted—assuming she always knew he thought she looked beautiful.
They walked along the water until they arrived at the beach bar. “Antonio said to walk up by the pool and take the path immediately across. That one leads to the formal dining room.”
Pete had studied the map after their nap, but as with anything, seeing it visually put it all in perspective. They made their way up to the bar, and as soon as they stepped on the first stair tread, they spotted Harry sitting on the exact same barstool he’d occupied yesterday, his wife next to him.
When he saw them, he waved and gave a big whoop of laughter. “They return to the scene of the crime!” he bellowed. “Did you guys have a good day today enjoying the sights? This place will wear you out if you let it.” Once again, he was wearing a skimpy Speedo, this one red, and his wife was topless.
“We had a very nice day, thanks for asking,” Emma answered politely. “The island is majestic.”
“Well, pull up a seat and join us! Drinks on me for the second time.” He grabbed the stool next to him and slid it forward.
“Thanks for your offer,” Pete said, “but we’re on our way to The Chalet to watch the sunset and have dinner.”
“Oh, the ol’ Chalet, huh?” Harry said. “That’s too fancy schmancy for us farmers.” He snorted. “We like it nice and simple, but come on by after, and we can have a little party of our own. Get my drift?” He winked.
Oh, Pete got his drift all right and that wasn’t happening.
“We’re going to see where the night takes us,” Pete replied noncommittally, placing his hand on Emma’s lower back and guiding her around the bar. “You guys have a nice night.” He waved as they walked past.
Once they were out of earshot, Emma leaned in. “I think that’s why very few people are at the bar. Those people suck the life out of the atmosphere around them.”
“Can you imagine being intimate with them?” Pete said. “He would be talking about God knows what the entire time.”
They looped around the pool. One couple was making use of a cabana, but other than that the pool was quiet.
“I think this is the right path.” Emma pointed to a break in the bushes.
Once they got closer, they saw a small sign that read The Chalet with an arrow. They took the path, and like all the other pathways that wound through the resort, this one had thick bushes and trees on either side. At times it felt like they were in a rain forest. The resort didn’t skimp on the greenery, that was for sure.
The walkway led to a beautiful white building with big double glass doors. Tables were set nicely inside, and the entire wall on the ocean side was glass. Pete opened one of the doors and ushered Emma in ahead of him. The place was elegant, with circular tables dressed to the nines with all-white settings, including the tablecloth, napkins, and dinner plates. There were generous wine goblets and tall, skinny water glasses.
“Wow,” Emma said. “Very nice.”
“Yes,” Pete agreed. “Like everything else around here.”
A greeter met them at the podium. “Welcome. Two this evening?” she asked. She was dressed in a long white gown, her hair done up in a coif.
“We’re actually meeting people here. They said they’d be out on the patio.”
“Of course, right this way.” She led them through the restaurant and slightly to the left to another set of large glass doors.
They followed her out onto the deck, and the first thing Pete spotted was Antonio, dressed all in white, holding two glasses of champagne, one of which he immediately held out to Emma as they arrived.
* * *
The sunset was beyond breathtaking. The entire patio of The Chalet was built right over the water, so nothing impeded the view as the sun hit the horizon. The seating areas were all dark wicker with white cushions, a lit hurricane candle in the middle of every table. Many of the tables had a standing ice bucket with a bottle of champagne, just like theirs.
Emma was on her second glass.
The five of them sat around the small table as the sky grew duskier, none of them wanting to head in too soon. The weather was perfect, just warm enough, but not sweltering.
“I think we need to find a single guy here who can join this party of five,” Mallory complained. “Or maybe a single girl? Either way. I can’t be the only single person who comes here. Right? Please tell me it’s not true.”
“What you need is a steady boyfriend,” Antonio said. “And I have a plan to set you up with one.”
“Oh, really?” Mallory arched an eyebrow at him. “How are you planning to do that? Snap your rocket-fueled fingers and one is going to appear in front of me? Okay, I’m in.” She grabbed her champagne glass from the table and took a swallow. She was wearing a beautiful white silk halter dress. It looked like it cost a fortune. No bra. The outlines of her nipples showed through every time she moved. Her hair was swept up in a loose knot, and her long chandelier earrings caught the candlelight perfectly. Honestly, the woman was ridiculously stunning. How could anyone look at anything, or anyone, but her? “Do you know how long I’ve been searching for Mr. Right? Since I was thirteen years old and I became my mom’s bankroll, that’s how long. I have big dreams of finding The Guy, and he will gallantly sweep me off my feet and whisk me away from all the bullshit. But I’m quickly coming to the conclusion, in my advanced age, that all guys are atrocious and only out for themselves. At least in my world, they are. I’m thinking of giving up the quest completely and just moving here permanently. Life would be abundantly easier.”
Antonio chuckled. “I’m not going to snap my fingers, but I’m going to do one better. I’m sending you on vacation.”
Mallory made a face. “I’m on vacation right now. What can be better than this?” She lifted her glass toward the ocean. “It’s perfect here.”
“How about a private Tahitian island? With one of those suites over the water?”
“I’m listening,” she said, setting down her glass.
They were all listening.
Antonio was totally relaxed, resting back in his chair, one ankle propped over the opposite knee.
Emma felt guilty every time she looked at him, but she couldn’t keep from doing it. She adjusted the top of her dress, feeling a little self-conscious that everyone could see her nipples, but a little turned on as well.
“I just invested in a unique business venture,” he told the group. “One of the original backers dropped out at the last minute. It’s an out-of-the-box experience, but I think it has huge potential with the young, rich, single crowd. The resort will be ready to take on clients in less than six weeks. We’re booking the first week as a test. Each of the partners is gifting a stay to six lucky individuals, three women and three men, and I want to send you.”
“What kind of out-of-the-box experience are we talking about here?” Mallory asked. “I love sex, but I’m not into freaky.”
“Think Tinder meets Tahiti,” Antonio answered slyly. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his face animated. “The setup is a beautiful, private island, and everyone there is fuckable and single. Forty-five men and forty-five women. You all get your own villa and a private phone with our app downloaded when you arrive. It mimics Tinder up to a point, but it’s much sexier. We have real-time video embedded in the app for live sexting.”
“That sounds…interesting,” Mallory said, nodding once. “I accept.”
“Just like that?” Antonio laughed, sitting back in his chair. “You don’t want any more info or need to check dates?”
“Nope, surprise me. If I have something booked that week, I’ll reschedule.” She crossed her legs demurely, flattening out the folds of her dress. “It sounds too good to be true, and with you as my fairy godfather, I can’t lose.”
Emma was intrigued. “That sounds like a really interesting concept,” she said. “How much does a stay on the island cost?”
“Fifty thousand a week,” Antonio answered. “But it’s insanely upscale. There are spas, multiple pools and hot tubs, a nightclub, seven bars, three restaurants, it’s loaded. And the setting is beyond beautiful. They flew me out last month, and I signed on to be a partner the first day. It blew me away.”
Emma whistled. “That’s some serious cash. Your only clients will be the wealthiest one percent.”
“That’s the idea,” Antonio said. “Bringing together wealthy hipsters is what it’s all about. There are a lot of under-thirty millionaires these days.”
“What’s the island called?” Pete asked.
“We’re still trying to come up with a killer slogan, but right now we’re referring to it as Hookup Island.”
“Why not just call it Fuck Me Island?” Mallory said. “That’s what’s going to be happening there, and it’s the only possible reason anyone would pay that much. To fuck, and fuck a lot.”
“Why not Marry Me Island?” Emma said. “That’s what all the attendees are hoping to find—love.”
“You have such a sweet heart, Emma,” Charlotte said. “It’s like you’re a Disney princess with really nice tits, firm abs, and a killer ass. It’s like if Ariel became human and we got to see her walk around naked.”
“Come on, I can’t be that far off! If I spent that kind of money to go to an island like that,” Emma sputtered, “it would be to find my perfect match!”
“Yeah, right,” Mallory snorted. “The chances of me finding Mr. Right on that Tahitian island are the same as the bachelorette finding an actual, non-asshole husband on network television. If I were in charge of those roses, I’d toss them on the ground and crush them beneath the heel of my Jimmy Choo, then I’d invite all the guys to do me at once, no strings attached. All the guys there just want to fuck and be on TV.”
“I can totally envision that.” Charlotte giggled. “It would make for hella good TV. But, hey, it happened to one of the bachelorettes, so it can happen for you, too, right?” Charlotte turned to Antonio. “I call dibs on the next test crowd, Tonio. After you dump me, it’s the least you can do to mend my broken heart.” She smiled sweetly and held up her drink. “Cheers to amicable breakups and hot island hookups, now fill me up.”
Antonio picked up the champagne and refilled her glass. “No one is breaking up with anyone tonight. So on that note, let’s head in and eat. What do you guys say?” He stood. “They have a table waiting for us.”
They followed him in.
Emma was directly behind Antonio. At the table he turned, smiled at her, and pulled out the chair next to him. “Won’t you have a seat?”
She sat.
18
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Pete was seated across the table from Emma. He watched her laugh and have a good time next to Antonio the entire meal. If it hadn’t been for Mallory distracting him, he would’ve overturned the table and hauled her out of there after the first five minutes.
Mallory leaned in, whispering, “Your frowny face is scaring the staff. Snap out of it. We’re almost done. Then it’s time for the real fun to begin.”
“The only fun Emma and I are having is back in our room,” Pete commented. “I’m taking her home right after dinner.”
Mallory laughed. “Yeah, right. If Antonio has anything to say about it, we’ll all be fucking on his villa deck before the night is over, his cock firmly embedded in your wife.”
“Over my dead body,” Pete replied gruffly.
“This is all coming along so nicely,” Mallory said. “You are definitely a predictable man.” She set her hand on his chest and drew a nail downward. “It’s too bad you’re taken, because we could’ve totally had some fun. You’re a guy’s guy, and I like that. The caveman type. But totally loyal. I need to clone you.” A curtain of hair fell over one eye as she leaned forward, blocking Pete’s view of the other side of the table. Then, unexpectedly, she nibbled his earlobe. When he jerked back, she held him steady by the shoulders, saying, “Hold tight, cowboy. This is all part of the plan.”
“What fucking plan?” Pete hissed. He was having trouble keeping his voice below a yell.
He was sick of it all.
“To make Emma jealous, of course,” Mallory replied sweetly. She patted his chest. “Dude, you need to wake up and smell the Cuban. You’re going to need to make your wife want you more than she wants the shiny new treat who’s showering her with attention and affection and expensive-as-hell champagne. And she’s going to want you all the more when she thinks I want you. Capisce?”
“No, it’s not capisce at all—”
“Are you two all right?” Emma asked from the other side of the table.
Pete’s head snapped up.
He hadn’t realized that he’d basically been in a huddle with Mallory. “We’re fine—I’m fine. Just ready to head out.”
“Oh, where are you two going?” Emma’s face was inscrutable.
“No, we’re going.” He gestured between the two of them, trying not to sound too frustrated. “You and I. Back to the villa.”
Emma’s eyebrows rose as she glanced between him and Mallory. “Antonio and Charlotte are having a bonfire in front of their villa. They’ve invited some other couples to join them. It’s going to be fun, and I’d like to go.”
Pete was about to say there was no way in hell that was happening, but Mallory reached under the table and pinched his leg. “Fine,” he ground out. “We can do it if you want.”
Antonio heard every word and grinned ear to ear like he’d just won a contest. Pete wanted to punch the smile off his face. His fists curled in his lap.
“I think everyone is finished.” Antonio set his napkin on the table. “Shall we go?”
Once again, they all stood and followed him out. He was like the Pied Piper of Paradise. Pete could see no other choice but to follow. But it made him sick to be one of this guy’s ducklings.
How had this happened so fast? They’d only been there a day.
Once outside they took the wood path. After a few hundred feet, Pete couldn’t take it anymore. He had to get away for a few minutes, or he was going to go bonkers. He decided to take the beach the rest of the way back to clear his head. “Does anyone know if this path is the one that heads to the beach?” he called, stopping at an intersection everyone else had already passed.
Charlotte turned. “Yep, that one goes out to the beach in front of area B.”
“Great,” Pete said. “I’m going to go this way. I’ll meet you guys back at the villa.”
Emma turned. She was in front, walking with Antonio. “Okay,” she said, her face hard to read in the darkness. “We’ll see you back at the villas.”
Villas? Plural.
Mallory made a move to go with him, but he shook his head, tamping down the snarl that was rising in his throat. She took his meaning, or maybe his face, to heart and kept walking with the others.
“We’ll see you later, surfer dude,” she called over her shoulder. “And I, for one, can’t wait.” Then she blew him a loud, smacking kiss.
Pete turned, angry at how this night had turned out. He fisted his hands as he walked. His muscles were beginning to ache because of all the clenching and unclenching. His brain was moving in eighty different directions. This was brand new territory for him. Emma had always been doting—first as a doting girlfriend, and then as a doting wife. She’d never given him any reason to doubt her love for him. Now? He had no idea what was going on. It was making his chest ache all the damn time, a dull thudding pounding continuously against his ribs.
The trouble was, he had no idea what it meant.
He’d never experienced any sort of emotion like this before. It sounded lame, but he’d never loved anyone like Emma. And she’d never given him any reason to feel like this.
After a few twists and turns, Pete made it out to the beach. He’d exited onto the sand at the very far end of the resort. It was dark, but the moon was out. He was wearing light linen pants that Emma had bought him especially for the trip. He stopped to roll up his pant legs before he hit the water. For a moment, he wished like hell this island had a good wave break. Surfing had been his life growing up in California. He’d attended USC, and when he hadn’t been playing baseball, he’d spent most of his time in the water. Mallory hadn’t been far from the truth when she called him a surfer. He looked like a surfer, and he certainly identified with the lifestyle. Choosing to move to Chicago, and then to Madison, had taken him far from what he loved to do, but being with Emma made him happier.
As he walked up the beach toward their villa, he thought about his life with Emma. She’d been happy with him all these years, hadn’t she? They’d gotten married fairly young, but lots of people did. Originally, she hadn’t wanted to move to the suburbs, but once they’d found their neighborhood, she’d seemed content. Their house was something they were both proud of. They’d each put their blood, sweat, and tears into it. Their neighbors were a little eye-roll-inducing, but whose weren’t?
He ran a hand through his hair.
How had things gotten to this point?
That was the question he kept going back to. He and Emma had been happy. They’d been living the perfect life. Now all of a sudden she was unhappy, and he was miserable. The problem was, her unhappiness could drive her into the arms of another man—a man with millions of dollars and a tantalizing lifestyle Pete couldn’t compete with. Emma could leave him and the suburbs behind forever with a snap of her fingers.
“Damn,” he muttered. “How did things get so jacked so fast? I am so fucked.”
* * *
Emma absentmindedly stroked the stem of her wine glass. Pete hadn’t arrived yet, and neither had Mallory. She had no idea what was going on, but she was heartsick. At that very moment, she was trying to scrub visions of them together out of her mind. She wanted to enjoy the night, but she couldn’t.
“Why such the long face?” Charlotte asked as she sat down beside her on the deck.
Antonio was down on the beach, getting the bonfire started.
“Oh, just thinking about stuff,” Emma mumbled. “Nothing too exciting. It’s so beautiful here, it’s a wonder that doesn’t cure all ills.”
“What stuff are you thinking about? The fact your hunk of a husband hasn’t shown up?”
Emma darted a glance at Charlotte. “Why, do you know where he is?”
“No, but I can promise you he’s not with Mallory.”
“How do you know that?” Emma questioned. “He could be. They were all over each other at dinner.”
“I know because Mallory went to her villa alone. I escorted her there myself. Your hubby just needed to get some fresh air, and I don’t really blame him. He’s competing with a lot right now. A lesser man would’ve packed up and gone home already.”
“Competing? How do you mean?” Emma asked.
“Come on, you seriously don’t know?” Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “I find that hard to believe.”
Emma blushed. “No, I don’t know. He’s my husband. He doesn’t have to compete with anyone.”
“Really? Is that why you were eye-fucking Antonio on the beach today? You totally got off on him watching you, and it wasn’t too bad for him either. I was a recipient of that intensity, and it was terrific.”
“You saw that?” Emma felt terrible. She bowed her head. “I’m so sorry. I honestly don’t know what’s gotten into me. This is not my normal behavior, I can promise you that.”
“I know what’s gotten into you, and he’s a tall, Cuban drink of water. That man is charisma personified. He draws you into his web very easily, like giving a child a lollipop. Then you add in the ridiculous amount of money, all the flashy things like yachts and expensive champagne, and most women don’t stand a chance.”
Emma politely snorted. “I’d like to think I’m not most women. To tell you the truth”—she turned toward Charlotte, crossing her legs—“I’ve always been head over heels in love with my husband, since the first time I ever laid eyes on him. Done, finished, met my soul mate, in love. But very recently things have changed. I’m tired of doing the same things over and over again. For such a long time, our relationship has been about pleasing others…I don’t know,” she said miserably. “I’m just craving attention, I think. I need to feel noticed. I guess Antonio is filling that need for me right now, but I can assure you I don’t want him. I want Pete. But I’m so sorry for earlier this afternoon. I really am. I was incredibly turned on, and Antonio is your boyfriend. I crossed a line. Please forgive me.”
“Are you kidding?” Charlotte hooted, tipping her head back. “Antonio is far from mine. And thank goodness I know that, or I’d be one heartbroken woman. What I told you guys today was the truth. I’m his girlfriend until he decides otherwise. I haven’t let myself fall too deeply in love with him for that very reason, and by doing so, I’ve managed to protect my heart as well as I can. I’m always truthful with myself. If it wasn’t you on the beach, it would’ve been someone else. I get that. He’s the kind of guy who is always searching for that next thing to excite him. I guess that’s what makes him such a successful businessman. Who knows?” Charlotte shrugged. “But your husband is super gorgeous and clearly very much in love with you. He’s miserable witnessing Antonio showering you with so much attention, knowing that if you wanted to become the new girlfriend of the filthy-rich bachelor, you could. You guys have gotten off track a bit, but I believe it’s fixable.”
“It’s not fixable if he chooses to be with Mallory,” Emma said. “I’ve seen them with their heads together, and they’d actually make a beautiful couple. It’s the same way Pete feels about Antonio. I can’t compete with a rich supermodel.”
“Now you’re talking crazy! You are totally gorgeous, and besides that, Mallory doesn’t want Pete. She’s only trying to help him.”
“Help him?” Emma said, her mouth gaping open. “What do you mean?”
“Yes, help him. You thinking Mallory is interested in him makes him a little more desirable and you a little jealous, yes?”
“I guess,” Emma admitted. “But I hate games like that.”
Charlotte shook her head, clucking her tongue. “Tell me if I’m right. When you first met Pete, he was the guy at a bar who got all the attention. Beautiful girls draped themselves all over him. He never had to want for any attention his entire life, because it always came looking for him. Does that sound like your husband?”
“Yes…pretty much,” Emma said. “But he’s not one of those asshole guys with an attitude about it.”
“I didn’t think he was,” Charlotte assured her. “But sometimes the guys who have to work the least are the most clueless when it comes to this stuff. Pete’s likely never had his heart broken, or felt the kind of jealous rage that grabs hold of you and won’t let go. He’s probably processing a ton of emotions right now and doesn’t even know what they are. The ache has to be totally foreign to him. He has no idea what to do. Not to mention, he’s been forced into this game because you started playing it first,” she pointed out. “You were craving this kind of attention, and you weren’t getting it from him, so you searched it out from someone else.”
Emma nodded. “You could be right, and it makes me ashamed. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting Pete to know what to do. I’m tired of him not getting it. I feel exhausted.”
“Ah, the ever-present battle between the girl brain and the guy brain. Unfortunately for us, most guys don’t have the faculties to figure it out unless we lead them by the nose to what we want. We’re like aliens to them. But, for what it’s worth, I don’t blame you. All my married friends have gone through that itchy phase, and each time they come to me—their token single friend—and spout the same things. They just want their husbands to understand them. Not all of them make it, but I’m certain you and Pete will. You’re both super hot for each other.” She patted Emma’s leg. “Now I’m going to go help my as-of-right-now boyfriend with the fire. Apparently, the Gavins are coming tonight, so it should get mighty entertaining around here pretty quick. That couple does it all and doesn’t care who’s watching. The pope could be in attendance, and they’d still get down and dirty.”
Charlotte left Emma to her thoughts.
Emma wanted to believe that there was nothing going on between Pete and Mallory, but she was having a hard time digesting all the emotions. If Pete was jealous of her interactions with Antonio, why wasn’t he doing something about it? On the beach today, he’d been a little possessive, but then he’d gone right back to flirting with Mallory.
Emma felt torn. She wanted more. She craved more. She didn’t really want Antonio, but she loved feeling appreciated and admired. That attention was like a drug. It’d been too long since she’d felt like that. Piper had been right. Her self-worth had been gone for too long, and now that it was back, she felt empowered. No way was she going to lose that.
Emma heard voices down on the beach. She stood. It was time for her to go see what the night had in store for her. No more wallowing.
She would see for herself who her husband wanted.
