Missez (Wild Irish Silence Book 4) Page 2

  They were quickly shown to their room, a large, luxurious suite with a fair-sized private balcony overlooking the ocean. Nicolette stood there looking out while Jerith tipped the bellhop. He walked out and stood behind her, putting his arms around her waist.

  “You like it?” he said, sounding boyish in his enthusiasm.

  Nicolette turned, putting her arms around his neck. “I love it. It’s absolutely incredible.”

  “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Downstairs, there’s actually a place where you can swim with dolphins, and they have an incredible brunch. There’s parasailing, scuba diving, snorkeling, deep-sea fishing—you name it, they have it.” He finished with a flourish of his hand.

  “Spoiling me, aren’t you?” Nicolette said, grinning.

  “Definitely.”

  They ordered dinner in that night, since they were both exhausted. Later they lay on the bed together, Nicolette curled up in Jerith’s arms with her back to him. He held her tightly, stroking her arms absently, his face buried in her hair. Nicolette had changed into a simple camisole-style nightgown, and Jerith wore white cotton sweat-style pants and no shirt. The sliding glass door to the suite was open onto the balcony, and the smell of the ocean was carried in on cool breezes. There was a very comfortable feeling between them, and they were reveling in it.

  “This is nice,” Jerith said, voicing what they had both been thinking.

  “Yeah,” Nicolette replied softly.

  “I’m glad you let me bring you here,” Jerith whispered, his lips right next to her ear.

  “Me too.”

  They spent the rest of their first evening in Hawaii companionably, talking softly every now and then, but never about anything consequential. Both of them were loath to spoil the contentment they both felt by getting too serious.

  The next morning, Jerith woke first as usual. He lay watching Nicolette sleep. He could hear the raindrops hitting the awning of the balcony. Nicolette woke a short while later. She looked up at him and glanced over her shoulder toward the balcony.

  “Is it me, or is it raining?” she said.

  “It’s raining.” Jerith sounded a little bit disappointed.

  “Cool,” Nicolette said, surprising him.

  “You like rain?”

  “Oh, yeah. My mom and I call ourselves ‘rain babies’—we love it. When I was younger we used to go outside during rainstorms and sit in the backyard getting soaked to the bone.”

  Jerith was grinning at her. “Why doesn’t that surprise me about you?”

  Nicolette shrugged, moving to get up. She walked over to the balcony and opened the screen door. She stepped outside, and he saw her walk to the railing.

  “Nicky! You’ll get soaked!” he said, walking over. He was right—she was getting wet, but she was smiling as she turned to look at him.

  “I told you,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m a rain baby. I love it! Come out here—try it!”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Oh, come on!” Nicolette said, grinning. “What, you think you’re gonna melt?”

  “Maybe…” Jerith looked like he was wavering.

  Nicolette walked over to the door and grabbed his hand. She surprised him with her strength as she managed to drag him half-protesting out onto the balcony and over to where the awning couldn’t protect them from the rain. Nicolette stood holding both of his hands, looking up at him as the raindrops fell on them. “See?” she said, her expression animated.

  Jerith grinned down at her, enjoying this childlike side of her. “I still think you’re a little crazy, but yeah, I see,” he said seriously. He leaned down and kissed her softly. She smiled up at him when their lips parted.

  They stood on the balcony for a little while longer, until Jerith managed to convince her to go back inside. She made him leave the sliding glass door open though, so she could hear the rain. Once inside, Jerith got a good look at her as she walked toward the bathroom to get towels. Her camisole was soaked clear through, and since it was white, and clinging to her body, his body responded instantly to the sight. He walked toward the bathroom, meeting her in the doorway as she came back out.

  “You know, we’re going to have to—” she was saying. She didn’t see him standing there and was silenced by his lips on hers. The kiss was passionate as he pulled her toward him. Nicolette dropped the towels as her arms went around his neck, returning his kiss with just as much vehemence.

  A few minutes later, Jerith picked her up and carried her over to the bed. There he continued to kiss her as he peeled the soaking wet nightgown off her body. He shed his wet pants moments later. His lips and hands moved over her, making her writhe in anticipation.

  “Jerith…” she whispered, her voice husky with need. “Please… please…” Her hands were on his shoulders, trying to pull him up from his exploration of her body. “God,” she gasped as his lips touched the sensitive spot on her inner thigh. She arched against him. “Jerith, please. I need you.”

  Jerith kissed her deeply as his body entered hers. It had been a difficult wait for him—a week had seemed like a year, and his body reclaimed hers with a vengeance.

  Later they lay together, Jerith still partially covering Nicolette as she stroked his back with her nails. His lips grazed her shoulder and neck every so often as they both floated on the aftermath of their powerful lovemaking. Eventually, Jerith moved to lie next to her. He was on his side, and she on her back, but turned partially toward him. He was stroking her arm.

  “What happened here?” he asked, his fingers grazing over a one-inch-long scar. He had never noticed it before.

  “That?” Nicolette said, glancing at her shoulder. “I did that when I was about ten.”

  “How?”

  She grinned. “I was being a bad kid. Me and some others were playing in this canyon behind a house we lived in a long time ago. There was this fenced-off section in the canyon, and being kids, we assumed it had to have something really cool in it or they wouldn’t have fenced it off, right?”

  “Right,” Jerith said, grinning. He remembered how simple things seemed when you were so young.

  “All the other kids dared me to climb the fence and investigate. And me, being a total tomboy in the old days, I took the dare.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jerith said, looking at her disbelievingly. “You were a tomboy?”

  “Oh, yeah, but that’s a whole other story,” she said dismissively. “Anyway, I climbed the fence, and oh, there was something really cool on the other side…”

  “What?” Jerith asked, already grimacing.

  “A very big Doberman,” Nicolette said, starting to laugh. “I swear I jumped that fence so fast, I don’t even remember it. I do remember the one section that was bent from my excursion over it the first time, and it was that section that caught me on the way back over.”

  “Ouch.” Jerith stroked the scar as if he could help take away the pain all those years ago.

  “Oh, but it gets better. I was so dumb, I didn’t want to tell my mom, ’cause we weren’t supposed to be down in the canyon. I wrapped what had to be an entire roll of toilet paper around my arm.” She shrugged. “I figured it was like a bandage.”

  “What happened?” Jerith asked, looking very curious now.

  “Oh, my mom found out when the blood seeped through the toilet paper and started coming through the arm of my shirt.”

  “Was she mad?” Jerith was trying to picture Patricia Hafner’s reaction.

  “Actually, she laughed. She laughed all the way to the hospital, and the whole time the doctor was putting five stitches in. When I asked her why it was so funny, she told me it was the best lesson she could think of to keep me out of that canyon. And boy, was she right.”

  “Hate when that happens, huh?” Jerith sounded like he’d been there before.

  “You were a bad kid too, weren’t you?” Nicolette said, her eyes narrowed.

  “Oh, yeah… but I was worse than that.”

  “What was t
he worst thing you ever did as a kid?” Nicolette pulled one leg out from under the sheet that covered them and planted her foot on the bed. She moved it back and forth absently as she listened to his story.

  “I’d say the worst was stealing a car.”

  “Grand theft auto, Mr. Michaels?” Nicolette sounded surprised.

  “Yeah, there was this car—it was a classic Corvette Stingray, a silver convertible. I walked by it every day on my way home from school. And every day, I ran my hand lovingly down the body. I’d stand and stare into the driver’s window, imagining what it would be like to have a car like that. Man, I loved that car,” he said, his eyes shining. “Anyway, one day when I was about fifteen, I came home and saw that the top was down on the car. I ran my hands over the interior—it was leather—and then I looked around. No one was around so I took a chance and got into it. I swear, it was like heaven on earth. I imagined myself actually driving it. By some chance in touching the knobs and gauges, and just about everything else, I pulled the visor down, and out fell the keys, into my lap. To me it was like a sign from God. I put the keys in the ignition, and before I had a chance to chicken out, I started the car. I’d never heard or felt something so incredible in my whole life. Without stopping to think, I threw it into gear and drove off.”

  “What happened?” Nicolette asked, her eyes wide.

  “I got chased by the police.”

  “Oh my God! Did you run?”

  “Yeah, for about three minutes, then I decided I’d probably get myself killed, so I finally pulled over.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Did you get arrested?”

  “Well, they took me down to the station, put me in a holding cell, and called my parents. I was scared to death. Funny thing was, the guy didn’t want to press charges.”

  “Really?” Nicolette said, surprised. “Why not? I mean, if he reported it stolen, why wouldn’t he want to press charges?”

  “Well, that’s the funny thing. First of all, he wasn’t the one that reported it stolen—his neighbor, a nosy old lady did. I really think he left the keys in it that day. He’d seen me looking at the car millions of times, and I think he wanted me to have a chance to drive it. After I got home from the police station, my dad made me go over and apologize to the man—his name was Hodgkins—and thank him for not pressing charges. Well, Hodgkins told me that he understood my interest in his car, and he was sure I had learned my lesson.”

  “Did you ever see him after that?” Nicolette asked, moving to sit up.

  “Oh, yeah. In fact, he let me drive it when I got my license. I ended up doing odd jobs for him, like cutting his grass and stuff, and he paid me with time in the Corvette.”

  Nicolette smiled. “That was really nice.”

  “Yeah. He really was a nice man. And you know, he died about five years ago… and guess who he left the car to?”

  “You?” Nicolette asked, her eyes wide again.

  “Yep,” Jerith said, his eyes shining a little from sudden tears. “He didn’t have any kids, and he said in the will that I was the only person that he felt would really appreciate the car. I ended up helping his wife with the funeral arrangements. He really hadn’t made any real plans for that part, he was so young.”

  “How old was he?”

  “Only about fifty-five. He had a heart attack.”

  “Wow,” Nicolette said, shaking her head sadly.

  “Yeah, tell me about it. My own dad’s sixty,” Jerith said seriously.

  “So you helped his wife with the funeral? The arrangements or the cost?”

  “Both, really. She was so devastated she couldn’t handle most of it. They had been high school sweethearts, and he had just retired. It really makes you think, you know?”

  “Yeah…”

  “I mean, most people spend their whole lives looking for the perfect person. Sometimes you have to wonder if they had that person but let them go, thinking something better would come along later.” He watched her as he spoke, wondering if she’d realize what he meant.

  Nicolette only nodded, looking deep in thought. After a few moments, she seemed to come back to the present. “So where’s the car now?” she asked, as if he hadn’t made that statement at all.

  “In storage at home,” he said, sitting up next to her. “I’ll show it to you sometime.”

  Nicolette grinned. “Yeah, next time I’m in Trenton, New Jersey, I’ll drop by.”

  “Maybe I’ll take you there next.” He grinned back at her. Before she could say anything, he continued, changing the subject. “How about we order breakfast in here?”

  “Okay,” she said, still thinking about his first comment—but she said nothing about it.

  By the time their breakfast arrived, the sun had peeked out from behind the clouds. They opted to eat out on the balcony. They sat looking out over the ocean and the parts of the island they could see. After finishing their food, they lingered over coffee.

  “So,” Nicolette said, looking over at him over the rim of her cup. “You’re obviously a pretty nice guy.”

  “Why do you say it that way?”

  “What way?”

  He grinned. “Like you’re just discovering it.”

  Nicolette set down her cup and leaned back in her chair. “It’s just not what people picture rock stars doing, ya know?”

  “You obviously underestimated me again.”

  “You just surprised me again, that’s all.”

  “You mean versus the sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll image you had before?” Jerith said, only half joking.

  “I guess. Not many rock stars do a lot to change that reputation though,” she said chidingly.

  “You mean like Billy?”

  “She does do drugs, Jerith,” Nicolette said softly.

  “Yeah, I know.” He sounded chagrined that he had gotten a little bit angry.

  “Have you ever?”

  “Tried drugs?” She nodded. “A few times, yeah.” He shrugged. “Not my thing.”

  “What have you tried?”

  “I tried cocaine—hated it, couldn’t stand putting anything up my nose. Smoked a joint a couple of times—didn’t do much for me at all. I even dropped acid once. That was horrendous.”

  “Why?”

  “I got into a nasty fight with Billy, and it ended up getting physical.” He sounded ashamed.

  “You hit her?” Nicolette asked, surprised.

  “Yeah,” he said despondently. “The whole story was that she took the opportunity of me being out of it to try and make a deal for us. She told me about the conversation she’d had with our manager and I yelled at her. She ended up raking her nails down my arm, and I ended up backhanding her to the floor. It was not a pleasant trip.”

  “I would say not,” Nicolette said, but there was no reproach in her tone. “So that’s it?”

  “Yep.”

  “You have any plans for future experimentation?”

  He gave her a pointed look. “If I did, could I still be with you?”

  “Nope,” she answered simply.

  “Same answer then.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Nope,” he replied, staring right into her eyes.

  “Well, I guess we can continue dating then,” she said, smiling.

  “Is that what we’re doing?”

  “I guess.”

  “So, if I give you my class ring, can we go steady?” he asked, his voice holding humor.

  “Do you even have a class ring?”

  “Yes.” He held out his right hand. There was a ring on his middle finger.

  Nicolette sat up to look at it. “Now why didn’t I notice that before?”

  Jerith took it off and handed it to her for closer examination, which she conducted, ever the investigator.

  “Trenton High School, class of 1992. So you really graduated, huh?” she asked, her tone indicating mocking awe.

  “Having a class ring doesn’t prove anything,” he said, his grin just as wide.


  “From what you’ve told me about your parents, I think you’d be dead if you hadn’t graduated. Besides, how else would you have been able to get into MI?”

  “Okay,” he said, holding up his hands in defeat. “You got me, I graduated high school.”

  “You know, you never really told me—did your parents support you going to MI?”

  “Not really.” He looked a little disappointed. “I guess they thought I could do more with my life. Thing was, I didn’t want to. I wanted to be a guitarist.”

  “They had no idea you’d become famous doing it.”

  It started to rain then, so they went back inside. Again they ended up on the bed, with Nicolette sitting with her back against the headboard and Jerith stretched across the width of the bed, his head resting in her lap. He looked up at her as she brushed long blond strands of hair back from his face. “What about you, Nick? Your life probably didn’t turn out quite the way your mom planned.”

  “Not even close,” Nicolette said, rolling her eyes. “Most mothers’ dreams for their daughter don’t involve their sixteen-year-old coming home one day and telling her that she’s pregnant.”

  “Is that how you did it?”

  “What? Tell her?” Jerith nodded. “Hardly…” she said, trailing off as she thought back. “When I suspected I was pregnant, I was terrified. It was the end of my life—I was sure of it. I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Not even the father?” Jerith asked, surprised.

  “John knew something was wrong, because as soon as I was three days late, I stopped having sex with him. I guess somehow I thought that continuing to have sex would make things worse,” she said wryly. “But I didn’t tell him, and it took him the next two months to pry it out of me. But I’m sure he suspected long before that.”

  “What happened when you told him finally?”

  “Oh, he did the romantic ‘I’ll marry you, I love you’ stuff. Then he went home and told his parents. They promptly called my mother, screaming bloody murder about her daughter trying to trap their baby boy.”

  “Oh, nice,” Jerith said, incensed.

  “Tell me about it. Anyway, my mom was very disappointed in me—not that I had gotten pregnant, but that I hadn’t been honest enough with her to tell her.”