Beachcombing in the Bahamas (Once Again #11)

Chapter 15

15

I t was late. The kids had quieted down. If they were still outside, Yvette couldn’t hear them. She sat on the bed, going through the day’s photos on her phone. The scenery was gorgeous, the foliage lush, the kids laughing, everyone wearing smiles.

But there was that picture of Brock in profile, the one she’d taken on the tram. He was so beautiful. A man in his prime. Her heart flip-flopped just looking at him. And he was hers.

At least late at night when no one else was around.

As if she’d conjured him, Brock toed open her door, holding a tray laden with bottles and glasses and boxes.

She gaped from her cross-legged position on the bed. “What have you got there?”

Excitement pumped through her the way it did every night, whether or not she knew he was coming. After the magnificent meal Olive had prepared—steamed crawfish, lionfish tacos, and the ubiquitous peas and rice and fried plantains—Yvette had taken a long, luxurious bath. Then she’d smoothed lotion onto her shaved legs, and even that had sent her senses reeling. Now she was wet and ready for him.

But Brock obviously had other things in mind first.

She’d thrown the cover and top sheet off the end of the bed. She wanted the door open for the breeze, though she’d still drawn the curtains in case anyone came close. It would mean she had to be quiet, but sometimes that was sexy too.

He set the tray on the bed, then sat cross-legged, mirroring her position. “I had a chat with the bartender at the zip line store. He told me how to prepare passionfruit punch.” He smiled wickedly. “And I thought of a way to use our banana ketchup.”

She leaned over the tray, her negligee hanging open for him to see her peaked nipples. She brought it for him, even though she’d told him she always slept naked.

“Witch,” he whispered. “You’re trying to distract me.” He twisted the top off the rum.

She gazed at him innocently. “I see you absconded with a bottle out of the bar. What did Olive have to say about that?”

“She told me to take two.”

“Liar.” They laughed together. She didn’t care what Olive had said. His idea was perfect.

“First, we’ve got rum punch. One made with guava and one with passionfruit which we’ll share.” He’d already filled the tumblers with ice, and now he poured a generous jigger of rum, then added the juice. He held up a glass. “You get the passionfruit first.” He waggled his eyebrows with deliciously naughty intentions. “Operative word, passion .”

She touched herself then, fingers to the peaked nipple clearly visible through her lacy lingerie. “I don’t think I need any more inducement.”

He swore. “We’ll never get to the rest of this if you don’t stop teasing me.”

She laughed, loving the power she had, loving the way he had to adjust his shorts over his erection. She loved knowing she could do this to him.

And he did it to her just as easily. Because she was wet. But she wanted this, the buildup, the tease.

After a long swallow of the passionfruit punch, the alcohol speeding through her veins made her weak with need. He handed her his glass, a slight lip print on the edge where he’d slugged back a quarter of it. “This is the guava.”

They drank together again, feeling the rush of alcohol mixed with desire.

“And here’s the rest of our treat.” He spilled crackers onto the tray from a box imprinted with the label of the tramway and the zip line. “First, we have crackers.” He unwrapped a triangle of cheese, the name written in a language she didn’t understand. “The salesgirl told me this is the perfect pairing with the banana ketchup.” He tore off the plastic wrapping and scooped out a nugget of the soft cheese with what looked like a butter knife. “Now I’ll prepare a cracker for you.” His eyes blazed with his desire; the alcohol, the treats, her negligee, her scent. They all had their way with him.

He added a daub of the yellow banana ketchup. “Now open up for me.”

She was always open for him, for whatever he wanted. He fed her the cracker, and while he watched her, he prepared another for himself.

Tipping her head back, she savored the sweet ketchup on the creamy cheese, a cross between brie and blue. Even the crunch of the cracker between her teeth seemed erotic.

“Is it good?” he whispered.

“So good,” she answered. Because everything about him was so good. So perfect.

He bit into his cracker, crumbs dropping onto the bed. After swallowing the last bite, he asked, “Will you kick me out of bed for eating crackers?”

She answered him with a cheeky smile. “The only way I’ll kick you out of bed is if you don’t make love to me right this second.”

His eyes grew dark and his voice husky. “Christ, you are so tempting.”

Then he handed her the passionfruit, tipping the glass when she would have stopped drinking. Then he drank from the guava cup. The weightiness of the alcohol once again blasted through her blood.

And she wanted him. “Are we done yet?” Her words rushed out with all her desire, all her feeling.

“Oh, we are so far from done.”

And she would never be done with him. “I meant the cheese and crackers.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t wait. I want you now.”

He whisked the tray to the floor, and the moment he was back on the bed, she jumped him. She didn’t care about cracker crumbs, her fingers tearing at the buttons of his shirt, then she stripped his shorts down. When he was naked, she fell on him, holding his erection in her hand. “All I want to feast on right now is this.” Then she took all of him. The only sounds in the room were his groans. And they were like music to her ears.

Yvette made love to him in every way possible, with her mouth, her tongue, her hands, her lips, and finally, her whole body taking him. They had more of the spiked fruit punch and the crackers slathered with cheese and banana ketchup. After they’d fed each other, he feasted on her. Over and over. They slept, they woke, they made love, and slept again.

Brock wanted this every night of his life. He wanted her. She was so willing to do anything he wanted. If only he could get her to channel all that willingness into taking his hand in marriage.

The day dawned, and it was Christmas.

And that was his Christmas wish, for Yvette to risk Adeline’s wrath and marry him.

But he wouldn’t hold his breath in case he turned blue and expired before he ever got a ring on her finger.

The kids burst into the house, calling out in echoes of, “Merry Christmas!”

Christmas morning in the tropics. No snow, no rain, no cold. Yvette and Brock were the last inside, with Brock several steps behind her, as if they hadn’t spent the night together and watched the sunrise.

Yvette surreptitiously set a bag of small gifts by the back of the couch, just something for each person to open. Since it was Christmas. Though the actual gift was this vacation.

“Oh my God.” Jodi put her hands to her mouth as she took in the living room. Then she and Kacey hugged each other, hopping around the room.

The boys were more subdued, as if what Brock had arranged didn’t tickle them the way it did the girls.

Adeline, Lorna, and Trevor were already seated in the living room, while Olive set a tray of steaming beverages on the big driftwood coffee table.

But it was the massive Christmas tree in the corner the girls squealed over.

Jodi broke away from her sister and threw her arms around Brock. “How did you manage this, Uncle Brock?”

He saluted Olive. “This dear lady helped me arrange it. So, in fact, you have Olive to thank.”

The gracious woman smiled. “It was my pleasure. We often have people here for the Christmas holidays. I like to be prepared,” she said in her lilting accent. Then she pointed to the boxes around the tree. “We keep the ornaments packed away. And now you shall have a party for the decorating.” She waved a hand over the tray of creamy coffees as if she were waving a wand. “I believe in your country you call this Irish coffee.” Whipped cream with chocolate sprinkles floated on the top. “But I have added my own special flavoring. A bit of amaretto.” Then she smiled again. “And a touch of cayenne. I hope you find them delicious while you are decorating the tree.”

The girls, including Malcolm’s and Ethan’s girlfriends, pounced on the boxes, tearing them open and finding delicate glass ornaments, garlands, and even silver and gold tinsel.

Trevor stood, holding out his hand to Lorna. “Let’s help decorate. We have to get used to it for the baby.”

Although Adeline always had a tree at Christmas, she hired professional decorators, and allowed no one else to touch the tree.

Now she sat on the primly on her chair, her legs crossed at the ankles. Yvette picked up a cup of the Irish coffee and offered it to Adeline. The woman stopped short of wrinkling her nose. “Olive is making me a cup of tea. Imbibing in alcohol this early in the day isn’t good for the digestion.”

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy your tea,” Yvette said. Then she took a sip of Olive’s delicious brew. “Oh my God.” She sounded just like Jodi. “This is wonderful.” The coffee, the sweet, almondy amaretto, then the kick of the spice. She closed her eyes to savor it. Besides, she didn’t need to see Adeline’s pinched face.

Brock took a mug, stepping close to clink glasses. With Adeline behind her, Yvette allowed herself to beam at him. “This is amazing. I don’t know how you and Olive arranged getting a Christmas tree here.” Especially since he’d spent most of the night making love to her. “Thank you. I know the whole family loves it.” She glanced at her girls, who took sips of the delicious coffee drink between hanging delicate ornaments on the tree. Each of the blown-glass balls was painted with a different Christmas scene.

Garth was already throwing tinsel, and Jodi batted at him playfully. “You’re supposed to do that after the tree is completely decorated, dunce.”

He laughed at the good-natured ribbing. He was a beautiful man, just like his father.

They both had beautiful children, almost as if they’d created them together.

But Brock took little credit for the undertaking. “Like I said, Olive had all the contacts and all the ornaments.”

“Where did you get the tree?”

Brock put a finger to her lips. Thankfully, her back was to her former mother-in-law, and she gave his fingertip a kiss as he said, “I won’t spoil the magic by telling you how it was done.”

Olive, followed by the maid Samara, carried trays of Caribbean small bites, the conch fritters, conch-stuffed mushroom caps, even bites of French toast drizzled with syrup and powdered sugar.

Everything was delicious, and they ate, sipped their coffees, and decorated the tree. All except Adeline. After winding garland around it and throwing tinsel all over the branches, Jodi stepped back with a sigh to survey their efforts.

“Best Christmas ever,” she declared.

Kacey was still rummaging through the leftover boxes. “Look. There’s an angel for the top”. She handed it to Brock, the tallest man in the room. “Please put it on for us, Uncle Brock.”

Setting down his glass, he did the honors, and without even needing to stretch, he slid the angel into place on the tree’s crown.

“It’s beautiful,” Jodi said in a dreamy voice.

And it was just what they all needed, the Christmas spirit.

Brock began stuffing all the tissue paper that guarded the Christmas treasures back into the boxes. Trevor helped, and together they carried everything out to the kitchen. Only minutes later, they returned, this time carrying brightly wrapped packages.

Adeline said sternly, “It was my understanding that this trip was supposed to be the Christmas gift to us all.”

Brock grinned at her. “It’s not Christmas without presents under the tree. Even if we are in the Caribbean.”

She harrumphed, even as he placed a small box on her lap.

The kids went through everything, separating the boxes into piles by name. And when Brock sat next to her, Yvette said, “I didn’t want to say it too loudly, but I thought the same thing. This vacation was our present.”

He looked as if he wanted to kiss her, perhaps just the tip of her nose. But neither of them moved. And he smiled. “There should always be more presents. And don’t think I missed that bag of presents you set over there.” He pointed behind the couch.

She couldn’t help smiling. “Busted. But it’s just small stuff.”

While everyone else sorted the gifts, Garth stood, holding his hand out to Jodi. Taking it, she followed him to the back porch, almost as if they thought no one would see them. Maybe Yvette and Brock were the only ones who did.

Trevor pecked Lorna on the nose and said, “I’ll be right back.” Then he took the stairs two at a time to the second floor.

Adeline said sharply, “You should have told me. Now I have nothing to give anyone. It’s embarrassing.”

Yvette didn’t let her attitude ruin the Christmas spirit on this lovely Caribbean morning, and she sipped Olive’s special Irish coffee to keep the spirit alive.

Trevor was back in a flash, carrying more presents for everyone, especially one for his wife and one for his mother.

Then Jodi and Garth burst through the door with carrier bags filled with still more presents. They had something for everyone. Small boxes, yes, but the thought was delightful. When Jodi handed a package to her, Yvette said, “Thank you. You didn’t need to do this.”

Her daughter said, like her Uncle Brock had, “It’s not Christmas without presents.”

But Jodi had already given her the best present by inviting her down to San Luis Obispo for the wildflower superbloom. Her daughter’s thoughtfulness had touched her more than she could say. And now there was this. Jodi was such an amazing girl. Though she had to give credit to Garth, too, for being part of it.

Then everyone dove into the packages beside them. Nothing was terribly expensive. Yvette had purchased a box of petit fours for Adeline, a scarf for Lorna, a blanket for the baby, for Trevor, a leather travel roll for all his chargers, gift cards for all the kids for their favorite stores, and for Francine and Iris, a simple Visa card they could use anywhere.

The girls gave her a body lotion gift pack from her favorite shop. She opened each bottle to sniff the scent. “Gosh, these smell so good. Thank you.”

She’d finished her small pile long before the kids did. With only one gift left, she knew it was from Brock. For a moment, her stomach turned over with the fear that he’d gotten her something suspiciously extravagant. But she opened the box to find a set of bath bombs, and laughed, almost in relief. “I guess all of you know what I like.”

Jodi waved her hand in the air. “I told him what to get you.”

“Well, then, I thank you both.”

A card lay inside the box that she ignored until the others were all busy with their own gifts. Then she read his note. I got these because I want to watch them sizzle against your skin in the bath. Then I want to breathe you in with their scent all over you.

She looked in the box to find one bath bomb had been removed and replaced by another slightly misshapen one. What did it mean? Of course she wouldn’t ask now, but she looked at him. “Thank you for listening to my daughter’s suggestion.”

He didn’t say a word about the mismatched bomb. “You’re welcome. Thank God for your daughters or I never would have known what to get you.”

But oh yes, he knew. He knew everything.

Then he reached down for his last package, the one from her. And inside were two silk ties that would look scrumptious on him. She loved a man in a suit with a silk tie over a white shirt. He held one up. “Ties. Two of them. Thank you.” Then Brock opened the note she’d written, and his eyes blazed as he read. He definitely got the message.

Kacey flapped her hand at Yvette. “Really, Mom?” She rolled her eyes. “A tie? You could’ve thought of something more original.”

But Brock said, “A man can always use two good silk ties.” And the heat in his eyes was enough to send Yvette’s pulse rate skyrocketing.