LaClaire Nights: An After Hours Novel Read online

  There’s no way he’s going to let this go, so I’m going to have to answer, to give him a simplified version of the truth. “I broke up with someone and needed some time away, alone. It was complicated.” I won’t mention I was married. That’s none of his business.

  I sit on the mat with my legs crossed, waiting for more questions, but instead I only get a smile and those dimples that make the butterflies in my stomach go wild.

  “I’m going to be honest here. Whatever relationship you were in, I’m glad it ended.” He runs a hand through his hair. “And if you’re interested, I’d be happy to help you get over it.”

  Blood rushes from my face, leaving my cheeks cold. “I . . . I—well.” What in the world does he expect me to say after that?

  “Don’t look so frightened.” He laughs out loud.

  I find myself joining in the laughter, my shoulders sinking with relief. He was joking. But a twinge of disappointment prickles my insides.

  Was I actually considering doing whatever he was hinting at? Was I really ready to turn the daydreams I’ve had of him into reality? So what if I did. He didn’t mean what he said. It could be he wanted to see how I would react. If only the tingling inside my panties would go away.

  “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.” A half smile crosses his face. “But I won’t apologize for liking you. I’m just saying, if you need a friend, I’m here. If you want more, I’m also here. Go ahead and think about it.”

  Oh God. He wasn’t joking.

  Now what? Do I dare ask for more?

  5

  Bryant

  Once you’ve seen one exotic island, you’ve seen all of them. That doesn’t stop me from knocking back a beer and lowering myself into my Mary Jane, who has found a temporary home on my spacious teak veranda. Some may think it odd for me to name my chair, but I don’t give a damn. Besides, calling Mary Jane an armchair is not entirely accurate. She’s a custom-made vintage leather piece of exquisite work. Not only that, she’s also the longest relationship I’ve had with a woman that isn’t my mother.

  I travel a lot, never staying in one place for longer than a month. Everywhere I go, Mary Jane comes with, my home away from home. With Mary Jane by my side, I don’t need four walls to call home.

  I place both hands behind my head and stretch out my legs, my gaze sweeping across the sparkling waters of beautiful Nassau.

  No matter how often I see beach sand, and the marriage of blue skies and water, I never tire of them. I’m not one for the grayness of the city. That’s why I gravitated toward this business, one that offers me the opportunity to explore the world and see new places, to appreciate beautiful women from all over the world.

  As with the islands, once you’ve seen one pussy, you’ve also seen them all, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to bury myself inside several of them. I’m not ready to put up roots yet or to be tied to one woman for the rest of my life. I close my eyes and suck in the briny sea air, living life the way it’s meant to be lived.

  I curse under my breath when my phone rings as I’m sinking into a short nap. I rake a frustrated hand through my hair and pick it from the table where it lies next to my bottle of beer.

  When his name flashes across the screen, the peace that had relaxed my body only a few seconds ago turns to a hard, cold rock smack in the middle of my chest.

  Damn you, Lance. Way to ruin a guy’s day.

  I pour myself another glass and drain it, while watching the phone ring nonstop. Lance always seems to know when I’m staring at the phone, hesitating to answer. I guess it’s right what they say about twins being connected at a level so deep it’s hard to understand. I’d ignore the call if I could, flip the phone over and pretend it’s not even ringing. But no matter how much I hate his guts and he hates mine, the burning guilt inside my chest will never allow me to do that.

  I bring the phone to my ear. “Hey, man, what’s up?” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “How’s Cabo treating you?”

  Lance has been living in the family villa in Cabo San Lucas for the past few months. But for a person living smack bang in the middle of paradise, he’s miserable as hell. Who wouldn’t be in his shoes?

  “What the fuck? I haven’t heard from you in two weeks.” The slur in his voice pisses me off. He’s been drinking again.

  Drinking tends to unveil the darkness in Lance’s soul, awakening his demons. But the past few months, his love for the juice has gotten out of hand. “Tell me, have I become a nuisance in your perfect little world?”

  “That’s ridiculous and you know it. Work’s been kicking my ass, that’s all.” Attempting to reassure him while he’s drunk won’t have the effect I want it to. But I have to try. “Getting this ship up and running has kept me pretty busy.” I grip the arm of the chair. “I apologize for not calling you sooner.” My grip tightens around the phone. “How about the others? Have they been in touch?”

  Our other brothers, Neal, Derrick, and Caleb, are also usually spread out across the world. We rarely find ourselves in one place at the same time.

  “Sure, I guess they care more about me than my own twin brother.” A chill freezes the edge of his voice. “I bet when work is not kicking your ass, you turn to your favorite hobby, fucking around. How’s that going for you? Are the bitches still more important than your own brother?”

  “It isn’t like that.” He’s partly right though. Hasn’t Grace been the person on my mind for the majority of this journey so far? “You have to quit thinking you are less important than everything or anyone else in my life. I’m tired of that bullshit. You know how much work it takes to set up a new ship.”

  “Actually, no, I don’t.” He puffs out a sarcastic laugh and I hear him clap. “Good job for reminding me of all the shit I can no longer do. You do a damn good job at it.”

  The silence between us is thick and heavy, sucking the oxygen from the air around me. “Why the fuck do you always have to bring that up? There’s so much that you can do still, if you wanted to.”

  Lance had an accident close to twelve years ago, that left him paralyzed from the waist down. His movements are dependent on a wheelchair and he spends the majority of his time resenting anyone who is able to do the things he can’t. I’m the one he resents the most.

  Lance doesn’t restart the conversation, so I do. “And don’t forget you have that next treatment coming up. It could work this time.” After endless experimental treatments that cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, Lance has pretty much lost faith in the idea he might walk again. But what do we have to lose by hoping every single time? If he can’t do it for himself, we have to do it for him.

  “Yes, brother.” He snorts. “Sure, I’m up for another fucking disappointment. Is that what you want to hear?”

  I push a fist into my forehead, wondering how to shut this conversation down before it goes to hell. The last thing I want is for Lance to slip further into depression without anyone there to look out for him.

  “Look, bro, I promise to come and see you soon, okay? And I’ll be there for the treatment. I love you, man. Don’t you ever doubt that.”

  “At least one of us believes it.” With that, the phone goes dead and I slam it onto the table, not caring if it shatters. That’s exactly why answering his calls fills me with dread.

  Lance is the reason I am who I am, the reason I run from love. How could I enjoy the love of a woman, and the stability of a relationship, when my brother can’t? It’s not fair. But he’s right, I should be there for him more, call him even when it hurts to hear his voice. In the meantime, since I’m stuck at sea and unable to be with him in person, my own demons need to be satisfied.

  The one distraction that always works is a good fuck, and I have the best candidate in mind. Grace is fragile and broken and not at the point to handle my mind games, but she’s the one my body craves right now. I’ll have her once and I’ll move on. I don’t care how long it takes me to screw my way through the female staff if it means clearing my
head of the darkness tormenting it.

  I pick my phone up from the table and turn it over in my hand, surprised it’s still intact. It takes me no more than five seconds to find Grace’s number in my contacts and dial. I had saved it from memory.

  As I wait for her to answer, visions of her body sweating in the workout clothes I bought her fill my mind. Whatever it takes, I’ll have her legs wrapped around my body sooner or later. I’ll wipe away her innocent expression and show her the dirty games I play.

  Her voice fills my ear, clean and innocent. She hesitates after each word as she asks who it is. Of course she doesn’t recognize the number because I didn’t give her mine. I don’t answer immediately, enjoying the cute way she ties herself up in knots. The usual women I sleep with are often sexually confident enough to handle a man like myself. It’s a little different this time and I’m finding I kind of like it.

  “Hello?” She asks again. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

  “Grace, it’s me.” A smile curls the corners of my lips. “How are you recovering from the workout?” After yoga, I had convinced her to do a couple of runs on the machines because I wanted to see her panting, imagining that’s how she would sound when pinned beneath my body.

  “It will take a while for me to recover that’s for sure.” Her giggle is like water trickling onto my tongue on a hot summer’s day.

  “If you’re still able to move, I’d like to invite you to dinner in my cabin tonight. How does that sound?”

  She’s quiet for a while. My heart pounds with disappointment, counting the seconds before she gives me an answer.

  “Bryant, are you asking me out on a date?”

  “Only if you want to call it that.” I shift in my chair, uncomfortable with the idea of taking any woman out on a date. “I prefer to call it a meal between friends. Trust me, the food in my cabin is so much better than what they serve in the canteen.”

  “I doubt that. Have you been to the same canteen I dine at? I haven’t eaten anything there that isn’t delicious.” She giggles again, then a moment’s silence. “So, what time do you want me to come over?”

  “Seven-thirty would be great.” I sink into Mary Jane with relief. That wasn’t as bad as I’d expected it to be. Still, it wasn’t as easy as it normally is with the other women. “My cabin is on the upper deck.”

  “Number?” I imagine her reaching for a paper and a pen to jot down the number of my cabin.

  “There’s no number. You’ll find it.”

  “But you have to tell me exactly where on the upper deck it is.”

  I’m in danger of giving away my identity, but so what? I want her to get here fast. “The entire upper deck is mine.”

  “I see . . . okay, then—” Her tone is suspicious. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  “Good.” I end the transaction. “Don’t be late. I like my food hot.”

  6

  Grace

  I drop a gray shirt on top of the others laid out on the bed, frustrated at not having brought enough clothes. Not surprising really. I never thought I’d have anyone to impress.

  I never thought the day would come when my modest clothes would not satisfy me, when I’d want to show more of myself. But even I have to admit that the workout clothes Bryant bought me had changed me in some way. They gave me the confidence in my appearance I had been trained to ignore.

  I collapse onto my bed next to a pair of blue jeans, gazing through the window at the ocean. I want to tell myself there’s nothing going on between me and Bryant, that the invitation to dinner is innocent, a meal between friends. But earlier that day, he had hinted at something more happening between us. The invitation to his cabin is definitely a big step. There’s something about Bryant that refuses to let me go. I dream of him at night and daydream about him most of the day. The way he looks at me, the way he says my name, everything about him ignites an intense desire inside me I can no longer ignore.

  Entering his private room would be crossing the line into a territory I’m not familiar with. It could be a mistake. I could be setting myself up for major heartbreak. But there’s no way I’m about to pass up this opportunity.

  As much as I try, as much as I’m dying to, I can’t stay away. I’m also curious to find out how a normal employee is able to occupy the entire top deck. Especially when we had been instructed never to go up there.

  There are only two explanations. He could be acquainted with one of the wealthy guests and they offered him their cabin for the evening. Or maybe, his job in admin affords him more privileges than ours. Either way, I’m intrigued enough to play along.

  I reach for the jeans and a navy blue T-shirt that’s long enough to be a mini-dress. It doesn’t really matter what I’m wearing because the moment Bryant lays his eyes on me, no amount of clothing would be able to hide me from feeling exposed. One look from him and I’m stripped naked. His x-ray eyes see deeper than my skin. They reach into my soul and start rearranging things I had not wanted shifted, but come to find I like the new look after all. Being around someone who sees so much of me is both exciting and terrifying.

  Fully dressed, I release my hair from its loose ponytail and run a brush through it. I can’t find it in me to put it back into its usual braid. They say, once you taste a slice of freedom, you never go back. I don’t know if I want to.

  I’m about to step out the door when I remember the small tube of tinted lip-gloss and mascara Lynn had given me earlier, claiming I need to do more to bring my best features to the forefront. The only time I’ve ever worn makeup was on my wedding day, and that had been one clean sweep of mascara on each eye and clear gloss on my lips for shine.

  As I run the gloss on my bottom lip, while gazing at my reflection in the mirror, I’m glad she had insisted I keep the makeup items. Now that I’ve discovered the transforming power of a makeover and change of clothes, I might even get myself a few more products once this trip is over.

  I take one last look in the mirror. Now that I have to leave the room, to see him again, tiny drops of sweat are popping through the skin on my nose. Anxiety has replaced my earlier excitement, but it’s too late to back out now.

  I’ll be fine. I’ll get through tonight. He did say a meal between friends is all it is.

  I draw in a breath, hold, and count to twenty before releasing, watching my shoulders rise and fall. How is it possible that Bryant makes me feel both intimidated and comfortable at the same time?

  I take a few steps toward the door and pause with a hand on the doorknob to lift my chin and push my shoulders back. I step through the door.

  The moment I reach the staircase, I’m breathless again as nervous energy claws through me. I grip the metal railing and get moving upward, one step at a time.

  My knees feel about to give in, but I’ve come too far to turn back now. And I don’t want to. This is my chance to grow, to become the woman I’ve always wanted to be, confident and sure of herself. The woman who goes for what she wants, no matter what anyone else or the voice inside her head is telling her. It’s time for me to break out of the mold and explore the world with all its thrills and dangers. Bryant is the key to the other side.

  On the landing, I close my eyes for a moment and push the ball of fear through my dry throat.

  Before heading to the hallways, I look around to make sure there’s nobody around to inform my boss that I’ve been spotted on the upper deck. I’ve never been one to bend the rules and I hope I won’t lose my job over this.

  Working on a cruise ship brings me so much satisfaction that I see myself doing something like this for a longer period of time. Being on the water makes me feel alive in so many different ways.

  The hallways are covered with thick carpeting and the walls are lined with what looks to be vintage artwork. As my feet sink into the carpet, I can’t help thinking this is wrong. Why would Bryant want me to come up here, putting both our jobs at risk? My sense of adventure is starting to wane as it dawns on me why the upper deck is off
limits. This place is pure luxury. The expensive crystal chandeliers above my head say it all.

  There are quite a few doors that I don’t know which one to pick. I’m so nervous sweat trickles down my spine. What does he expect me to do? How should I know which door is the right one? What if someone comes out and finds me here, looking lost?

  If this is a game he’s playing, he has succeeded. I feel like a complete idiot.

  Refusing to make a fool of myself, I turn to get back to the staircase when I hear his voice behind me. Relief washes through me as I turn to face him. He isn’t playing games, after all. And the way he looks takes my breath away. He has on the most amazing baby blue Cashmere sweater, worn over blue jeans. No shoes. Sexy.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, standing in the doorway furthest from the stairs. The smirk on his face tells me he knows I was about to bolt.

  “Hi.” My voice wavers. “I wasn’t sure which door is the right one. You never said, remember?”

  “Now you know.” He pushes away from the door frame. “Come on in.”

  I glance at the stairs and back at him. I start walking in his direction. It’s a wonder my shaky legs manage to get me to my destination.

  When I get close enough to smell his cologne, he moves aside for me to step into the room. Room is the wrong word. This is a freaking suite, an apartment.

  My mouth drops open at the sight of the luxury spread out before me. Everything is so beautiful, so expensive. Soft leather couches, chandeliers, a plasma TV that covers the entire wall, and a breathtaking view of the ocean. I swallow and turn to him.

  “Are you sure we’re in the right room? Did you lie to me?” I frown at him. “Tell me you’re not a guest. If you are, why would you use the staff gym when the ones for the guests are so much better?”

  He lays a hand on the small of my back and ushers me deeper into the room.