We swam, drank, freshened up, and now we’re finishing dinner. Vanessa is wearing what might be the sexiest dress I have ever seen. It has a halter neck, barely covers the sides of her breasts, and is backless. The skirt flows around her curves.
She obviously isn’t wearing a bra and I have to purposely not look down, so I don’t look like a middle school boy who’s hoping to get a peek of her boob.
I shouldn’t be thinking any of this.
I came here for a new beginning. A new job. The last thing I need to do is drag down a smart, beautiful woman like her. I overheard my aunt tell someone that it would be hard for me to find someone new to love. That I have too much baggage.
And she’s probably right.
Two little girls, who are staying with my parents so they can keep going to their school, while I figure out if this will work. If I should move them to California and take them away from everyone they know.
On the plus side, it will mean not having to deal with Whitney’s family.
They never treated her well when she was here. It kills me when they pretend to miss her now that she’s gone.
And I don’t want them to influence my daughters.
I haven’t had an inkling of a desire to date anyone or sleep with anyone since it happened.
My oldest brother, Camden, even resorted to taking me to Atlantic City and trying to buy me a couple hookers.
A fresh start in California means working with Keatyn and Riley, sunshine all the time, and getting away from all the reminders of Whitney.
Never once in the last month, while I contemplated Keatyn’s offer, did I think I would come out here and want to be with a woman again.
Especially not on my first day.
But I do.
And I feel both incredibly relieved and incredibly guilty.
Vanessa sets her champagne down and licks her bottom lip.
And I’m jealous of her tongue.
I try not to stare, but I can’t help it.
We’ve been flirting all night.
Yes, I’ve been flirting with her.
Although, she probably thinks I’m bipolar. I know I’m giving off all sorts of mixed messages.
Camden drove me to the airport, slapped me on the back, handed me a bag full of condoms and told me to use them.
I threw them in the first trashcan I walked by.
That wasn’t even on my radar.
But, now, my radar is being jammed by a gorgeous, stealth temptress in a shimmering black dress, whose red lips I’m dying to kiss.
She leans in closer, resting her chin on her palm, and purrs, “It’s getting noisy in here. Why don’t we take our champagne back to our room so we can discuss your ideas further?”
“Sounds great,” I say, wondering what the hell I’ve been saying. Oh yeah, something about the all-American designer I used to work for who I think would make a great marketing sponsor for Daddy’s Angel.
I put my hand across the small of her back, guiding her out of the room, and based on the male eyes following us, I’m hoping I don’t have to get in a fight to do it.
A fight.
Would I fight to go back to the room with her?
Hell yeah.
Maybe it’s because we just met and have a million things to talk about but I don’t think we’ll ever run out of things to say. She’s stimulating both my mind and my cock in ways I haven’t felt since . . .
Since that night we met. We talked for hours. Danced for hours. Made out for hours.
Then, I went home.
I thought about her a lot my freshman year in college.
Jake Worth, my roommate at NYU, and I certainly fucked our fair share of coeds.
But none of them wanted to talk. They were just horny. And that was fine, for a while.
I realize now, looking back, that Whitney and I weren’t well suited. My brothers urged me not to marry her when she got pregnant. We weren’t dating seriously at the time.
It was an accident.
And I wouldn’t change it for anything. My daughter, Ava, is the light of my life and we went on to have another beautiful baby girl, Harlow, a few years later.
I haven’t told Vanessa about my baggage. I haven’t told her that my wife hated life so much that she killed herself.
It’s not really something you want to blurt out when fate hands you a gift.
I’m still trying to figure out if I should make a move as we enter the room. The bed is turned back, soft music is playing, and the lights from the pool are shimmering outside.
Vanessa sets the champagne bottle down, saunters toward me, and grabs my tie, pulling me closer.
“The answer is yes,” she says softly. “I think we could top it. I think if we kiss now, it will be better than our first kiss.”
That’s all the encouragement I need. I wrap one arm around her waist and slide the other behind her neck. Just like I did more than ten years ago. Our lips touch.
And then it’s not about seeing if it’s good.
It’s about need.
She parts her lips and my tongue darts inside, exploring and intertwining with hers.