Island Romance

She sat on the bench on the back of the large yacht, closing her emerald green eyes against the warm sun. The cool breeze caressed her cheeks and lifted her long, auburn hair off the back of her neck. She sighed inwardly with content, savoring the peacefulness while it lasted, for who knew when the chaos would strike again.

“Jazzy!” a deep, grating voice called from another part of the boat.

Here comes chaos, Jasmine thought to herself as she groaned. She sat all the way up, crossing her long, tanned legs. Picking up the sunglasses from the bench next to her, she gracefully slid them up the bridge of her short, perky nose. “What is it Glenn?” she snapped as she stretched her arms above her head.

The tall, slender man hopped off the ladder from the upper deck and frowned at his wife. He paused for a moment to gaze at Jasmine’s tiny frame in the even smaller white bathing suit, her C cup breasts spilling over the top of the bikini. A surge of lust bolted through him, a mischief grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Shouldn’t you be bothering someone else? Isn’t that what this trip is all about? Kissing ass with Mr. McCormick?” she hissed, reaching for her cigarettes. She yanked one out, placed it between her full lips, and cupped a hand around the tip to block the wind long enough to light it.

Glenn grumbled something under his breath, instantly losing all traces of desire for his wife. “I just thought you might want to know that we will be docking within the hour. Do you think you can pull yourself out of your state of hatred long enough to come to shore for a while?”

Taking a long drag off the cigarette, she cut her eyes at Glenn from behind her dark glasses. “That depends. Do I have to spend that time with you?”

“I’d be honored if you didn’t,” he growled, looking toward the thin sliver of land in the horizon.

“In that case, I’d love to,” she grinned, bringing the cigarette to her lips again.

Glenn stared at his wife of ten years and shook his head. There had been a time when they had been crazy about one another. They hadn’t been able to keep their hands to themselves. Now, the mere sound of her voice grated his nerves. He tried to feel sorrow and grief over the loss of tenderness in the marriage, but found boredom and annoyance instead. Without another word to her, he turned his back to her and climbed the ladder again to rejoin his boss on the upper deck.

****

Jasmine crept up the white sandy beach toward the boardwalk, her sandals dangling loosely from one of her hands. With her free hand, she chased away some wavy, strawberry blonde strands of hair that had escaped from her braid. She stepped up on the wooden steps and happily left the beach behind her. Glenn was proudly showing off his sculptured, bronze body for the young girls to swoon over. It was a little more nauseating than Jasmine wanted to deal with at the moment.

“Hello, madam,” sang an elderly woman native to Jamaica. She stood hunched over at the top of the boardwalk, a worn, tattered basket of beautiful flowers looped over one of her arthritic arms. She pulled a light blue orchid from the group and handed it to Jasmine.

“No, thank you,” she said with a smile. She raised her hand in a gentle refusal and shook her head. “I didn’t bring any money with me.”

“No money needed, dear,” she replied as she motioned Jasmine to her.

Jasmine grinned and leaned over for the older woman to tuck the flower behind her ear. “Thank you,” she whispered before strolling toward the street. She wanted to do some window-shopping before they headed back to the yacht.

When the ground turned to rough pebbles and cobblestones, Jasmine dropped her sandals and slipped them on her feet. She knelt down and laced the strings up her ankles to tie them around her calf.

“Madam, watch out!” hollered the little old flower lady.

Jasmine’s head snapped up to see an out-of-control horse drawn carriage speeding down the street toward her. Her green eyes widened in horror, her body paralyzed with fear. Just when she thought she was about to get run over, something hard and forceful punched her on her side. The next thing she knew, her body was air borne for a split second and then it slammed onto the hard ground, the wind knocked out of her. She could suddenly smell the muddy road and realized her face was pressed onto the ground.

“Are you okay?” called a concerned voice from a few inches above her.

Jasmine’s whole body writhed in pain, bright flashes of lights blinding her vision for a moment.

“Mrs. Mercer, are you all right?” the man asked again.

Jasmine tried to sit up, but a pain more horrific than she’d ever felt caused her to slump back to the dirty ground. Squinting her eyes, she gazed up at the man hovering over her, his turquoise eyes wide with concern. Her mind grew fuzzy and darkness consumed her.

****

Jasmine gazed out the window at the ocean horizon, her heart swelling with love for this place. She wished she could live here all the time, but Glenn would never have it. He had to live in the city, for that was where all the business was. And where there was business, there was more money. Resentment seeped into her good mood as she thought about her husband now sailing across the ocean without her. He had actually abandoned her here.

“Jazzy, get up. We have to leave,” he had demanded, reaching for her arm.

Jasmine’s face wrinkled up with pain and irritation. She slapped her husband’s hands away from her and snapped, “Leave me alone! I’m not going anywhere.”

“But Mr. McCormick is expecting to finish our trip as planned,” he replied through gritted teeth, his brown eyes clouding over with anger.

“Like I care about that nasty old man,” she hissed, referring to his perverted, chauvinistic boss.

“Jazzy, he is my boss. This isn’t a vacation; it’s a business trip. I’m working on getting partnership at the firm. You know how important this is to our financial future.”

Jasmine sighed. It seemed the two of them were happier together before they had financial stability. How many more millions would it take for him to be satisfied? How many yachts? How many cars? How many homes?

Tired of listening to his childish whining, she had shooed him away, telling him to finish the trip without her. She told him she would stay for a few days until she was better and fly home later. Naturally, Glenn was thrilled with this idea and ran out the room before she could change her mind. He had taken the time to unload all of her things from the yacht and have them sent to their vacation home before he left. Considerate.

“Are you sure you will be okay?” Dr. Thomas asked Jasmine again.

Jasmine turned around and flashed the friendly doctor a reassuring smile, nodding her head. “I’m sure, doc. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to stay in that house all by myself. I’m a big girl.”

Dr. Thomas nodded his head, stepping aside to allow Jasmine to leave the examining room. “So you will be leaving tomorrow?”

Jasmine shrugged her shoulders, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I’m supposed to, but I don’t know. I’m thinking about sticking around for a while. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been to Jamaica. I want to do some shopping before I leave.”

“Just promise me you will take it easy, gal.”

“I promise, mon,” she replied, mocking his accent. She gave the man a friendly wink and stepped out of the clinic into the warm, fresh afternoon air. She took a deep breath of the ocean air and sighed it out, suddenly feeling wonderful. She was free from Glenn…for the time being, that is. All she knew was that she was going to take advantage of her mini vacation.

Stopping in front of a store to gaze at her reflection in the window, she wanted to make sure she was decent enough to stroll the streets. Before leaving Jamaica, Glenn had stopped by the clinic once more. Not to check on her, but to drop off a clean set of clothes for her to wear the day she was discharged. “You need to look presentable,” he said. “We know too many people around here for you to walk around looking dingy.”

Such compassion, she thought as she stared at her reflection. He did have good taste, though, she told herself as she looked at the beautiful off-white sun dress he had chosen for her to wear.

Jasmine was about to turn away from the window and continue down the strip when she noticed a set of eyes staring back at her from inside the shop. Turquoise eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. It was those same eyes she saw on the boardwalk a few days earlier. He was the one who saved her! she told herself.

Tearing her eyes from his, she glanced up at the sign of the shop. An art store. Glancing around her nervously, she stepped inside.

“Hello, Mrs. Mercer,” the stranger said in his husky voice.

Jasmine felt her stomach flip over with a strangely familiar feeling, a feeling she hadn’t felt in years. Her heart sped up and her face warmed with a heated flush. She actually felt like a nervous schoolgirl!

Her eyes traced the lines and dips of his face as her breathing came in short puffs. The man was a little taller than she was. He had shaggy brown hair that was tied loosely at the back of his neck, a few strands dangling around his square jaw. His body was thick and muscular; and only half clad with clothing.

The man followed her eyes and he glanced down at himself. “It’s hot,” he said flatly in defense to only wearing a pair of baggy khaki shorts. “It’s even hotter in the studio.”

“Oh, no… no need to explain,” she stammered.

He finished wiping his paintbrush on an old cloth and haphazardly tossed it on the table next to him. “I’m glad to see you are feeling better,” he said softly, his gaze locked on hers.

Jasmine opened her mouth to say something, but stopped when a door in the back of the shop opened and two young ladies strolled out wearing nothing but string bikinis. They smiled seductively at the man and sang in unison, “Good-bye, Sandy.”

He nodded to them and a half smile. “Bye, girls. See you soon.”

Jasmine arched a thin brow as she watched the two girls leave the shop. When they were alone again, she narrowed her light green eyes in judgment and shook her head at him.

Sandy chuckled. He lifted a paint stained cloth covering a piece of canvas on an easel beside him, turning the painting toward Jasmine. “They were posing for a painting.”

Jasmine chuckled, blushing with embarrassment. “I wanted to thank you…for saving me,” she breathed.

“It was my pleasure, Mrs. Mercer.”

Her brows knitted together curiously. “I’m sorry, but do I know you? How do you know my name?”

He chuckled again, replacing the painting on the easel. “Are you kidding? Who around this town doesn’t know you and your husband? You two are quite popular around here.”

“How so?” she asked, daring to step closer to him, her eyes scanning the dozens of beautiful paintings scattered around the shop.

“Well, you are very wealthy, so that brings attention quickly. You own one of the fanciest homes on this side of the island, but you rarely visit it anymore. No one understands why you spend so much money to own a house you hardly ever see.”

Crossing her arms over her flat stomach, her mouth set in a firm line. “And is that anyone’s business?”

Sandy shrugged casually as he leaned on the table beside him. “You are much more popular than your husband,” he continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “Everyone knows you as the sad, lonely wife locked away in the house on the hill.”

Anger sparked in Jasmine. “Who are you to say these things to me? I don’t want your pity. I don’t want anyone’s pity.”

Again, Sandy shrugged. “I call it like I see it. I have nothing to lose by being brutally honest.”

Jasmine gazed at him from the corner of her eyes, trying to figure him out. “You are vaguely familiar to me. Are you sure we haven’t met?”

Sandy nodded his head, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth together. He stood up and went to the shop’s door, flipping the open sign to closed. “We’ve met,” he snapped curtly.

Jasmine felt a sudden wave of relief. “I thought so. Where?”

Sandy spun around to eye Jasmine warily. “I painted the mural in your bedroom.”

Her face drew back in surprise as she thought about the picture. “Oh, that’s right. I had no idea,” she whispered as she tugged on her bottom lip in consternation.

Sandy scoffed, stomping over to the counter and cash register. He punched a button and opened the drawer, snatching out a few bills. “You are unbelievable,” he chuckled bitterly.

Jasmine pouted with another frown, something inside her growing uneasy. “Am I missing something?”

Slamming the drawer shut, Sandy shoved the money in his pocket and glared at Jasmine. “You’re a brat.”

Gasping, Jasmine felt the blood drain from her face. “I beg your pardon!”

“I spend eight hours a day, six days a week, for nine months at your house painting a wall that you made me do over four times because you couldn’t make up your mind. I give you the best work I have ever done in my life. When I finish, no thank you, no good job, and you screwed me out of eight hundred dollars. And you can’t even remember who I am. Spoiled rotten.”

“I have never cheated anyone out of the money they are due,” Jasmine cried, feeling shame and hurt at his accusations.

“And now I am a liar. Great. Get out, Mrs. Mercer. I have errands to run. I am closed now.”

Jasmine’s anger returned, her stubborn side taking over her better judgment. “I have never met someone as crass as you in my whole life.”

“The feeling is quite mutual.”

“I am not leaving until you apologize to me.”

Sandy chuckled again, reaching behind his head to pull the rubber band from his hair. His shaggy hair fell around his smiling face as he laughed at her. He briskly ran a hand through his hair as he stared at her in disbelief. “Very well,” he finally said.

Jasmine straightened her back, raising her chin in defiance. But instead of getting the apology that she thought she deserved, she was appalled to see Sandy turn and walk out of the store, leaving her alone.

****

Jasmine stood in her living room, staring at the painting she had purchased from Sandy’s shop after he stormed out and abandoned her. She had propped it on the stone hearth, leaning it against the empty fireplace so she could see it better. She took a long drag off her cigarette, examining each wonderful brush stroke. The painting had a small creek running through the center of bright green rolling hills dotted with dozens of colorful flowers. Standing next to the creek with her back to the viewer of the painting was a young woman with beautiful long red hair. She was wearing a thin, white gown which lifted around her ankles as the wind blew by her. It was a beautiful painting that had caught her attention immediately. She had seen the price attached to it and added eight hundred dollars to it in a check she placed on the counter next to the cash register.

Jasmine groaned loudly to the empty room, wishing she could get this arrogant man out of her thoughts. For some reason, ever since she saw him peering back at her through the window of his store, she could not shake his presence. The way he looked at her, almost as though he were peering straight into her soul. The way he spoke to her, brave enough to tell her exactly how he thought of her, unlike most people who only said what they thought she wanted to hear. And what stuck with her the most was his opinion of her. So she was a brat, who cares? Who gave him the right to call her that and judge her? He barely knew her!

My God! Jasmine cried to herself, smashing the cigarette butt out in an ashtray on the fireplace mantel. What did it matter to her what he thought of her? He was a meager artist, probably living off of bread and water. She had plenty of friends and family that loved her. It meant nothing to her that this stranger thought she was spoiled…

Keep telling yourself that, Jazzy, she told herself as she turned her back to the painting that taunted her with his image. Maybe one day you will believe it.

The doorbell rang, jarring her out of her thoughts. She tilted her head and stared at the door, wondering whom it might be. None of her friends knew she was here. Besides, it was awfully late.

Wrapping the silk, black robe tightly around her, tying the belt in a half knot, she hurried to the door and answered it. Her eyes widened with shock, her heart leaping to her throat. “What are you doing here?” she snapped. “Back for more insults?”

Sandy forced a weak smile. “No, ma’am. May I come in?”

“Why the hell not?” she groaned, stepping aside to allow him to enter. She slammed the door behind him and walked back into the living room. “Would you like a drink?” she asked him over her shoulder.

“Vodka. Straight.”

She went to the bar tucked in the corner of the room and poured him a glass of vodka. She hastily set it on the bar, licking the couple of drops that spilled over the rim off her hand. “What can I do for you,” she sighed as she fixed herself a glass of bourbon.

Sandy took a sip of the vodka. He should have known. Only the best liquor for the Mercer’s. “I wanted to apologize to you for what I said.”

Jasmine’s body tensed and she froze, the glass pressed to her bottom lip. She watched him for a moment, trying to figure him out. Tossing her head back, she down the whole glass in one swallow. She set the glass on the counter and pushed it away. One shot was all she needed. “That’s a switch. What kinds of strings are attached?”

“None. I was rude and out of line. I never should have said those things to you. I was wrong and I am sorry.”

She narrowed her eyes, wondering whether or not she should trust him. “Apology accepted,” she said cautiously.

Sandy took another swig from his vodka before tearing his eyes from hers. He strolled away from the bar to look at his painting. "So you liked this one, huh?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

Going to stand next to him to gaze at the painting too, she shrugged. “I don’t know. There was something very peaceful and tranquil about the lady. She seems free and enlightened to me, somehow.”

Sandy turned his head to stare at Jasmine’s profile, his boldness overwhelming him again. “Kind of like how you wish you felt, right?’

Jasmine’s breath caught in her throat, her insides quivering nervously. “Do you always speak so forwardly?”

“Most of the time. You know,” he said, backing away from her for a moment. “It’s kind of ironic that you chose this one out of all the paintings in my shop.”

“Why is that, Mr….”

“Landon. Sandy Landon.”

“Oh,” she breathed with a short nod of her head.

Taking a deep breath, he drank the last of the vodka and walked over to the bar to set it down. “Because that is you in the painting.”

Jasmine felt her belly flip over anxiously, her heartbeat quickening in her throat. “What?”

“I painted it three years ago after I finished your mural. This is how I imagined you to be. This is how I wished you could feel.”

Jasmine didn’t know what to say. She was speechless. Tears welled up in her eyes and she didn’t know why. Was it because he was seeing straight through the wall she had built to protect her from all the unhappiness she felt from her empty marriage? Was it because a complete stranger could feel compassion toward her when her own husband couldn’t?

Sandy saw her green eyes misting over and felt his heart tug with sadness for her. He went to her side, cupping her cheek with his palm. His thumb came up to brush away a fallen tear. “Shhh. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Sniffling, Jasmine closed her eyes, fighting with the mixture of emotions that battled within her. She knew she should break the embrace and tell him to leave. She knew she should be faithful to her husband. She knew letting him near her like this was wrong. But it had been such a long time since anyone showed her any warmth, and compassion, and intimacy. She had yearned for someone to touch her with the gentleness this man was now.

“I would love it if you posed for me,” he whispered, his hot breath caressing her upturned face.

A train barreled through Jasmine’s cloudiness, instantly making everything clear to her. He wanted to paint her. Probably like he painted those two girls that she had seen leaving his studio earlier that day, naked and vulnerable. That was what this was all about.

But part of her didn’t care. It felt so good to have someone near her like this, touching her the way she had longed for so long. Even though she knew she was another notch in his belt, she didn’t care. She just wanted to feel alive one more time. Even if it was for a short moment, she wanted to feel loved and wanted.

“Like those girls earlier?”

“Yes. All of you and your beauty.”

Jasmine stepped away from Sandy, managing to put some distance between them. “I don’t think so. My husband would be very upset.”

“The painting wouldn’t be for your husband. It would be for you.”

Jasmine felt a twinge of disappointment and hurt at his behavior. Was it too much to ask for someone to want her because of her and not because they wanted something in return? Had she truly become that emotionally void that no one wanted her?

“And if I pose for you, my painting would be displayed on a wall in your shop for all of Jamaica to see. And all of my husband’s friends and co-workers.”

“No. It would be hanging on a wall in my home for my eyes only. Unless, of course, you wanted it for yourself.”

Jasmine stared at Sandy for a moment, tired of the games. She was tired of being used. She wanted him to leave now. She wanted to be alone. “I don’t think so, Mr. Landon. I think you should go. It’s late and I am tired.”

Sandy cocked a thick brow at her, wondering what had caused the sudden change in her. Had he said something wrong? “You’re unhappy,” he mumbled simply.

Jasmine gawked at Sandy, amazed at his bluntness every time. “Like that is any of your concern!”

“I would like it to be. Why do you stay with him?”

“Mr. Landon, have you ever been married?”

“No.”

“Have you ever even had a single serious relationship in your life?”

“No, I haven’t,” he sighed, wondering what this had to do with his question.

“Then you wouldn’t understand why I stay with my husband. I have fourteen years invested in this man. He helped me when no one else cared about me. He took me off the streets, fed me, took care of me, and gave me everything I could ever ask for. You don’t just walk away from someone because of a little rough times.”

Sandy slowly closed the gap between them again, his eyes boring down into hers. “How long has it been?”

“B-been? For…for what?”

“How long has it been since he has loved you? Since you loved him? How long has it been since you’ve made love to him?”

“I think you should leave now. This is very inappropriate-”

“How long are you going to wait for something you will never get from him? You say he gives you everything your heart desires? What about passion? Do you have any passion? Does your body tremble for him like it’s trembling for me?”

Jasmine nervously chuckled, trying to grasp the last bit of control she had left. “I don’t know what you are talking about…”

“He doesn’t love you.”

“And you do? After a few moments together today, you are going to stand here and tell me you are in love with me?” she asked, her voice shaking with the waves of confusion that filled her.

“No, I can’t tell you that I love you after a few moments from today. I can tell you that I love you from the nine months I spent admiring you from a distance. Watching you, learning your ways. Memorizing every line and curve of your body. Picturing what you conceal under those layers of fancy clothes. Listening to your voice, adoring your beautiful laugh.”

“You're crazy,” she breathed, feeling her restraint slipping away from her as she leaned into his body.

Sandy dipped his head, claiming her lips with his. He cupped the back of her neck in his palm, his fingertips massaging her head while his tongue brushed against hers.

Jasmine moaned into his mouth and her arms rose to circle around his neck. She felt a fire deep inside her belly, her body aching to be touched by him. She grew heady and the rest of the world disappeared. The floor fell out from beneath her and she felt as though she were floating. She forgot about everything, only aware of his delicious, demanding kiss, his hand roaming down her back to caress her bottom through the thin silk robe.

Sandy broke the kiss, both of them breathless and aroused. He searched her eyes, wishing he could make her see what he saw. She was wasting her life away with Glenn Mercer. He could make her happy. He could give her the life she wanted. He didn’t have the money her husband had, but he knew Jasmine wasn’t with him for the money. She was with him because she felt loyalty to him for giving her shelter when she was homeless. She was with him out of habit. He had studied her enough while painting the mural to figure some of her motives out.

Jasmine felt Sandy’s excitement pressing firmly against her belly, causing every fiber in her being to explode with heated desire. “Don’t stop,” she begged, pulling his head back down to hers. She kissed him with fervor and hunger, praying this moment never ended. She didn’t care whether or not he meant the wonderful things he had said to her. She didn’t care if he left her in the morning and never looked back. She wanted him now. She needed this more than she had ever needed anything before.

Sandy bent over, swooping Jasmine into his arms. He stared into her eyes, drinking in her beauty as he carried her up the stairs to the bedroom he had memorized. He gently laid her on the thick, plush comforter and settled down next to her. He reached over and untied the string to the robe, carefully pushing it to her sides. He lightly traced his fingers over the raised tips of her breasts, causing her to gasp in pleasure, her back arching to welcome his touch.

“I have wanted this for so long,” he whispered as he lowered his head to shower her neck and collar with kisses.

“Shh,” she said, tears beading the corners of her eyes. His touch felt so good, his body so warm. She hadn’t realized how dead she was inside until now. She hadn’t realized how numb she had grown from the emptiness. Fear seized her heart, for she suddenly realized she might not be able to give this feeling up when Sandy was through with her. “Don’t say anything,” she wept. “Just love me. Love me for tonight.”

Sandy lifted his head to look at her for a moment. He nodded and went down for another kiss to her inviting lips. He would love her for the rest of his life.
****
Jasmine stretched her arms high above her head, waking to a smile on her face and a sun filled bedroom. Her body ached everywhere, but it felt good. She felt good. For the first time in years, she was glad to be awake. She actually was looking forward to the new day… what was left of it anyway, she thought when she glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. She rolled over to kiss Sandy but found the bed empty. Her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach with disappointment and anxiety.

She groaned, heaving a loud sigh. Turning over to her other side, she found herself staring at the mural Sandy had painted on her wall years ago. The white, sandy beach, caressed by the crystal clear blue water. A beautiful lighthouse standing tall and proud off the coast in one corner with seagulls flying in the pale blue sky. It was wonderful, she thought. She grinned widely and actually felt strange. How long had it been since she genuinely smiled? she wondered.

Jasmine stood up, the sun shining through the open windows to touch every inch of her nakedness. She glanced down at her wedding ring and frowned. Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, she searched deep inside of herself for some answers. She dropped her head to her hands, feeling tears threatening the backs of her eyes. Maybe a shower would help her think more clearly, she thought as visions of her and Sandy’s love making filled her mind. She stood up again and strolled over to her dresser to dig out some clothes. On top of the dresser was the check she had written for Sandy the day before. He had torn it into tiny pieces and left it right where he knew she would find it.
****
Sandy sat in his studio, staring at the blank canvas in front of him. One foot was propped on a rung on his stool while the other leg stretched out in front of him. His paintbrush, loaded with yellow paint, twirled aimlessly in his hand. He blinked, his mind in a far off place.

The bell hanging over the door to his store rang, pulling Sandy back to reality. He cleared his throat and dropped the paintbrush on the table next to the easel. Standing up, he grabbed the tee shirt hanging from a peg on the wall by the studio door and slid it over his arms, quickly buttoning it as he stepped into the main part of the store. “Can I help you?” he asked, watching his feet to make sure he didn’t trip over anything.

“Someone recommended I get you to make a painting of me…naked,” sang her angelic voice.

Shivers raced up Sandy’s spine, his head snapped up to stare at Jasmine in amazement. He hadn’t expected to see her again. He had thought for sure she would have woken up this morning, realized she had made a terrible mistake, and taken the first flight back to the states. But she was here!

Jasmine shut the door behind her, locking it. She turned the sign over to the closed side and grinned mischievously at Sandy. Slowly, she began to step toward him, her fingers unbuttoning the dozens of buttons that dotted down the front of her dress. “Do you think you can do that for me?”

Sandy chuckled, his body reacting to her with instant desire. He shrugged his shirt back off and tossed it on the floor. “I think I can manage that.”

She unfastened the last button and pulled the front of her dress open just enough for him to see. “Where would you like me?”

Sandy glanced over her shoulder at the window to make sure no one was walking by and stumbling across an interesting show. He reached for her hands to pull her into his studio and paused when his thumb caressed her fingers. He looked down, his heart thumping rapidly against his chest when he noticed the absence of a wedding band. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked seriously with a stern look on his face.

“As long as you will have me, I am yours.”

Sandy smiled knowingly at her. “How long do you have?” he replied, pushing the studio door closed behind them. He pressed Jasmine’s thin body against the wall, his hand cupping her breast gently.

“Forever,” she breathed on a gasp of desire, leaning forward to claim his lips.