LaCasse Family Series Read online

  Her reaction to the stranger was the most powerful reaction she’d ever had to a man, and it had her in a tailspin. She wanted to leave and not return, but she seemed to have no control over herself. She was like a drug addict after a fix.

  On the fourth morning when the swimmer came out of the water, he had a hard-on. Okay, that’s embarrassing... Can he see me watching him? And if he can, would it do that to him? She was mortified. Her consolation came from the fact that he didn’t look in her direction but followed his same routine of walking away from her location to retrieve his clothes.

  This is crazy. I have got to start taking a later bus out here or find something else to occupy myself.

  After seeing him fully erect, sleep was out of the question. She couldn’t remove from her mind’s eye the vision of the swimmer stepping onto the beach with the massive erection jutting out in front of him. She kept trying to rationalize the entire thing, but it made no sense. Why would he be aroused? He hadn’t been the other three mornings, so why today? Is he a pervert? Did he know he was being observed? If so, did he hope to intimidate me by displaying his fully aroused body? Questions like these kept her awake half the night, and in the morning, she was no closer to finding answers.

  Her biggest problem was her body’s reaction to the man. Every time she thought of him, the length and breadth of him, she felt hot and breathless with anticipation. She didn’t know what she anticipated, but the feeling of expectancy would not let up.

  For four days, she’d thought of nothing but the naked swimmer. Now that she’d seen him aroused, it was impossible to not think of all the things she wanted him to do with her.

  That night she stayed up very late, sitting in the club watching other couples dancing, talking, and having a good time. All the while, she sat yearning for a stranger.

  Night and day, day and night, she was in a constant state of arousal, like a spring toy ready to go off at the slightest touch. She told herself that her condition was the result of her wanton self-exerting control over her body. Her more sane and sensible side was being suppressed, and for the first time in her life, Daphne felt free, ready for any challenge.

  Several times she debated calling Gayle in the States to discuss her time on the island. But she’d made a promise to herself to do this on her own and to leave Gayle out of it. She was trying to develop her new persona. If she called Gayle every time something went wrong or something exciting happened, she would be reverting back to her old self, looking and hoping to please. Now it was about pleasing herself… doing what made her happy.

  She was already up when the hotel staff knocked on her door on the fifth morning of her stay. She hadn't cancelled her picnic lunches. Although she didn’t intend to return to that particular location on the beach, she knew she had to get out of the hotel room and find some activities to participate in.

  She got on the bus, and before she knew it, she found herself getting off at her usual stop. She made excuses by telling herself that the only place she knew of was the beach. So what else could she do? But she promised to look into doing something different the next day, even though she hated having to change her plans, which were to lie on the beach during the day with a book, doing nothing.

  For now, she was back in her usual voyeur perch behind the shrubbery when the swimmer made his way back to shore. He stood on the beach as if lost in thoughts. Previously, he’d wasted no time retrieving his shorts and exiting the beach. Today, he lingered a bit before going to retrieve his clothes.

  He didn’t look directly at her hiding place, but his actions today caused Daphne a moment of unease. She was conflicted—should she reveal herself or not?

  She was just about to step out of her hiding place when he shook his head as if having a conversation with himself, and then he continued walking away from her. He kept walking and didn’t look back, not once.

  Daphne stood transfixed, staring after his retreating figure until he was a speck in the distance. She then collected her things and made her way back to the main road to await the bus back to the hotel.

  From the hotel, she took another bus into the city and spent the rest of the day visiting the shops and the food market near the pier. The place brimmed with life. People and vendors were everywhere, calling out their wares in singsong voices to attract locals and tourists alike. She purchased a shish kabob of something the locals called lambi and ate it while she traveled from stall to stall, examining the merchandise on display. It was an exhilarating afternoon. She didn’t think of the swimmer or Michael.

  When she returned to the hotel, Daphne’s problem with the swimmer came back to her, full force. Should I stop going to the beach?But she loved going to the beach. That was one of the reasons she’d chosen Martinique. Most people needed to be with a crowd to feel alive, but she was the exact opposite. She loved her own company, and when she had a good book, nothing was better. She was working on changing, but old habits die hard. The question about whether or not the swimmer was aware of her behind the shrubbery did not sit well with her. Has he seen me spying on him? Does he know I returned to the same spot, knowing I’d see him walking out of the water in the nude?

  She was loath to leave her hotel room that night because she was ashamed of her action, but excited by it as well. This, she told herself, is the new me. I won’t fight it; I’ll embrace it. But the transition seemed too rapid for Daphne, and the two sides of her personality were at war. One minute she felt vibrantly alive and the next distressed by her actions. The fluctuation between hot and cold made for a most stressful night, but her wicked, wanton side was more dominant, and in the end, it prevailed.

  By dawn the next morning, Daphne had made up her mind to return to the beach, and damn the consequences. So as if in a trance, controlled by invisible strings, she was back on the bus, picnic basket in hand, heading for her favorite spot behind the shrubbery. She would be the first to admit this had all the makings of a voyeur. But you only live once, and she intended to do just that.

  This was her sixth day, and by now, she was a pro at this. But the excitement didn’t lessen. She was waiting in breathless anticipation for the swimmer to make it to shore. This time, when he walked out of the ocean, he looked directly at the spot where she was hiding.

  Wait, something was different today. He was smiling. It was the sexiest smile she’d ever seen on a man, or maybe it appeared that way to her sex-starved mind. When he began walking toward her, she panicked and squeezed her eyes shut, but when nothing happened, she opened them to find herself alone. The swimmer had jogged down the beach to his usual location to retrieve his shorts. He was stepping into them by the time she’d mustered up the courage to peek from behind the shrubbery.

  This time, he didn’t walk away from her, as he’d done the previous five days. No, this time he turned and began walking back toward her location. Daphne didn’t know whether to run or stay. She was nervous, excited, and curious, all at the same time. She experienced so many powerful emotions that she was getting a bit confused. In the end, she remained where she was—behind the shrubbery.

  Even if she wanted to run, she didn’t think she’d have made it very far. Also, if the stranger wanted to harm her, he’d have no difficulty catching up with her. She believed he’d been aware of her from the beginning, and if he wanted to harm her, he could have done so already. Her gut instinct told her she had nothing to fear from this man. So, she remained behind the shrubbery until he was standing in front of her.

  “Salut! Je suis Wolfe,” he said, extending his hand. “Et vous?”

  To hide her embarrassment, she became defensive. “Why? I don’t give my name to strangers, and I don’t speak French.”

  “I would think we had progressed beyond the stranger stage, don’t you think?” he replied, in fluent English with a strong French accent. “You’ve been watching me in my private moments for several days now. There is nothing about me, visually, that you don’t know.”

  Daphne turned beet red and wis
hed the earth would open up and swallow her. “I’m sorry,” she replied. “I didn’t mean to spy on you. I was shocked the first time I saw you walking out of the ocean.”

  “If you were that shocked, as you put it, why then did you keep coming back? Is there something about that shrubbery that fascinates you? You have been in the same spot the last five mornings. Hmm, let me guess…you live here. Is that it?”

  “Okay, I’ll let you in on a secret. I come here to study the intricate variations of this collection of hardy shrubs for my research. Did you know some of these shrubs have medicinal properties?”

  “Ah, a scholar. Did you forget to take your notes today? Because your note pad is missing,” Wolfe observed.

  “Okay! All right! I’ve been found out. My name is Daphne, and I’m guilty as charged.”

  “Are you now?” he asked.

  “Yep. I’m not proud of it, but the temptation was way too strong to resist.”

  “Hmm, you consider me a temptation?” he asked, quizzically. “What about me exactly do you find so tempting? And be honest because I’m prepared to give it to you... All of it!”

  I’ve got to find a way out of this situation.

  Honestly, though, just sharing the same space with this man, excited her beyond anything she’d experienced before. She couldn’t decide whether it was the way he carried himself, all proud and erect, or because he stood so close she could smell his unique scent: sun, sea, and sand, with a hint of male musk; it was intoxicating.

  Her skin tingled. Her skin never tingled around other guys, not even her ex, Michael. It had to be her hormones, from having unfulfilling sex with Michael, and her wanton half making her presence felt.

  She thought of something her friend Gayle had said. What would it be like to have a man like that interested in her?

  Probably short-lived, and he was probably as untrustworthy as her ex.

  She tried to shrug to break the sexual haze trapping her mind. “I’ve got to go now,” she finally mumbled, looking at everything but the hunk of a man standing so close to her that she could taste him every time she inhaled. Actually, that was exactly what she had a strong urge to...taste him.

  Daphne began getting her things together as he stood there watching her. When she tried going around him, he held out his hand and offered to carry her picnic basket for her. She declined his offer, but he fell into step with her and kept looking at her as if she were a piece of his favorite snack.

  Her body kept reacting powerfully to him and walking so close didn’t help her situation.

  “Where do you live?” Wolfe asked.

  “I’m only visiting the island, if you must know,” replied Daphne.

  “I figured. That still does not tell me where you are staying on the island.”

  “I’m at one of the local hotels,” Daphne replied.

  “I see. So you don’t trust me enough to share information about yourself,” he responded.

  “Why should I trust you? I don’t even know you.”

  “I beg to differ,” he replied.

  “Differ all you want. I won’t tell you where I live.”

  “Bien! I will accept your decision; however, if I should find you spying on me again, you will have to come clean.”

  “I don’t intend to go to that section of the beach again, not at that time of the morning anyway.”

  “We shall see,” he replied, walking away. “Au revoir. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  It was as if he knew she couldn’t keep away.

  This man fascinated her, and now that she’d actually spoken to him, her fingers itched to make contact with his skin. The strong urge caused a slight tremor to go through her right hand.

  After the events of the morning, Daphne got on the bus and arrived back at the hotel before lunchtime. This left her with an entire afternoon with nothing to do.

  Her favorite pastime, reading, was out of the question. She couldn’t even bring herself to open the book because her mind was taken up with Wolfe. She was fascinated with him. Everything about him intrigued her...his body, his accent, his body. She kept thinking about his body. The things she would like to do with that body made her blush. Staying in her room was not an option; thoughts of Wolfe had her climbing the walls.

  Come to think of it, her encounters with Wolfe had pretty much erased Michael from her mind. She’d hardly given him a thought since she’d began spying on Wolfe. Today, for instance, she’d not thought of him once—until now. But that didn’t count. Every real thought was of Wolfe. She didn’t even know the man, but having met him, she was finding it difficult to forget him. Well, I’ll be damned, but I’ll have to try. This is supposed to be a relaxing, healing vacation, not some sort of crazy island fling.

  Putting her plan into action, she inquired at the hotel concierge about guest activities. She needed to be out among other people, to keep her mind focused on having fun and not the magnificent image of Wolfe stepping out of the ocean with his monstrous hard-on.

  She had her choice of a canoeing trip or an island tour. Daphne opted for the island tour, which included a stroll through the botanical gardens on the northern end of the island. She figured that way she would be back in time for dinner and could then take in some of the island’s nightlife.

  The roads were winding, and they hugged the majestic mountain landscapes. It was scary, but after a while, she learned to relax and enjoy the beautiful scenery.

  The bus stopped at selected spots to allow the visitors to get off and purchase souvenirs and food items from the locals. There was a large selection, from fresh fruits and roasted corn to complete dishes of island food, prepared for them while they watched.

  The most amazing thing was the overabundance of flowers; they were everywhere. She’d known, from her research that Martinique was known as the island of flowers, but she’d not given it much thought until she was confronted with the reason for the nickname. There were so many varieties that she had a hard time taking it all in. It was different from anything she’d seen before.

  “Combien de variétés de fleurs sont là sur l’île?” Daphne inquired of one of the vendors.

  She was surprised when he answered her in fluent English.

  “I do not know—Je ne sais pas.”

  She had fun trying out her limited French because most of the people spoke the Creole dialect as well as French. It didn’t sound like Parisian French, but it was French nonetheless, and if a tourist knew some French, they could get by, which she did.

  The tour wound up with a stroll through the botanical gardens. She was hoping to find the answer to the question she had put to the vendor. She studied the information provided. Daphne didn't recognize most of the selections there.

  Back at the hotel, she slipped into a hot bath and found her body becoming heated by more than just the water. Her disobedient mind pulled up a picture of Wolfe in a full state of arousal, and she couldn’t get her body to behave. The water was soothing, but it had a sensual feel because of the heat between her legs.

  Her breasts ached. Her female core throbbed as if alive. She added more cold water to the bath to see if that would help, but it didn’t. She was just one big need and had no clue how to take care of it.

  She’d never been able to pleasure herself because it just didn’t feel right to her the few times she’d tried after a particularly frustrating episode with Michael. Now she was so primed she felt some relief just touching herself with the washcloth.

  After it wore off, which it quickly did, the feeling returned, more intense than ever. For a moment, her wanton half tried to persuade her to go out and pick up a man. What the hell? I was going through my metamorphosis, right? But she knew she couldn’t go through with it. In this instance, her sensible half won, reminding her of Michael.

  I’d probably get another Miserable Michael, anyway.

  In the beginning Michael had come across as caring and loving, taking her out several times a week which lessened some of the pressure for
intimacy. He was not pushy about sex, and she was grateful for that.

  They were three months into the relationship before it finally happened, and there was nothing earth shattering about it. It was quick, sloppy, and over before she knew it had begun.

  When he started to make excuses about his performance, she assured him it was okay. The few times they came together afterwards were repeats of the first.

  Given her limited experience, in her opinion, sex was overrated. She did not feel any of the excitement that Michael was evidently experiencing during the act. She was always hungry and disappointed when it was all over. But sex aside, she’d truly loved Michael. She enjoyed spending time with him, and they did have fun together. Actually, truth be told, she enjoyed doing everything with Michael, but the sex act itself. The foreplay was great because she loved kissing him...he was an excellent kisser. So she told herself she’d have to make do with the foreplay. And forget the act itself.

  Based on that decision, Daphne had been prepared to allow Michael a bit of space so the relationship could grow and flourish. She didn’t make unnecessary demands on his time. She was content to see him as often or as infrequently as he wished. He set the pace, and she just went along with it.

  In retrospect, she realized that had not been the best decision she could have made with Michael. It didn’t help matters that her decision was based on her love for him, and she thought he loved her too. That was until she read his text messages about his upcoming wedding to someone else. It was like a blow to the solar plexus. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t waste time thinking about Michael. Now was not the time. She much preferred to think about Wolfe.

  When she finally got out of the tub, the bath had done nothing to erase those lascivious thoughts from her mind. If anything, she was more aroused than ever.

  Maybe mingling with the other hotel guests would help take her mind off her predicament. She’d always found people-watching a relaxing pastime; maybe, just maybe, it would serve as a distraction tonight.