Kincade's Rose

Jayde Porter sat at the outdoor café in the warm tropical breeze overlooking the inviting turquoise wa-ter. Belize was so warm and beautiful, very unlike the intensely frigid weather New York was having this winter.

She sipped her iced tea and smiled sardonically as she looked around at the many couples wandering in and out of the surf. She was here alone. I suppose this is the price I have to pay for coming all by my lone-some.

Knowing she’d almost turned down this vacation still shocked her, but then her family, who hadn’t wanted her to come in the first place, usually could keep her under their control. Then again, she could’ve come with the man she’d been dating for the past seven and a half months, George, if she’d not broken it off. Moreover, if she were honest with herself, she didn’t want him here nor anywhere near her. That was another reason she was glad to be alone; George was arrogant, condescending, and most definitely an asshole.

She shook her head and started to drink more of her tea, determined not to let thoughts of her ex ruin her serenity, when, suddenly, a man walking across the boardwalk caught her attention. Every other person faded from her sight as if she had tunnel vision. He only wore khakis and a white polo shirt, yet he screamed virility without trying. Hell, he dripped it.

Hot damn he’s fine!

It wasn’t that the man bulged with muscles; his were lean and defined, but very real. He was evenly tanned and his shaggy brown hair looked like it needed a trim. Though a very good looking man, Caucasian men didn’t usually turn her head, but this one was something special. The thought that he looked formida-ble and capable came to her mind instantaneously, along with the word sex. It was as if he were a jungle predator, beautiful and deadly at the same time.

She wet her dry lips before taking another sip of her tea, keeping a small ice cube in her mouth to help eliminate her cottonmouth. He seemed to be looking for someone; and as he turned back towards the ocean, she glimpsed the finest ass she had seen since she’d been here. The finest one in her life. She blinked and tried to slow her breathing while biting down on the piece of ice with her back teeth and continuing to stare at his retreating body.

“Oh, well,” she murmured to the air once he disappeared. “He’s probably married anyways, or has some blonde adoring girlfriend. Just another man for my fantasies.” And he would be a good one.

Her beeping watch broke intrusively into her daydream. Damn. She might be on vacation, but she still had people she’d been ordered to call at a certain time. Gesturing for the check, she paid her bill and stood, shouldering her bag full of souvenirs.

Jayde started the quarter-mile walk back to her hotel. Two steps into her journey, she ran into something that felt like a brick wall. “Ah, hell!” she swore as she dropped her bag and stumbled, only to find herself in the strong grip of a stranger.

Looking over her skewed sunglasses, Jayde came face-to-face with none other than her fantasy man from the boardwalk. In that second, she forgot her bag on the pavement of the walkway, its contents free for the taking if anyone were inclined to abscond with them.

After she felt the blush stain her cheeks, she cleared her throat. “Excuse me…” The mumbled words came from her once-again dry mouth. She licked her lips and hoped he wouldn’t notice her nervousness.

“No, the fault is all mine. Excuse me.” The stranger had a deep, rich voice, the kind that made women weep with sexual yearning. He still hadn’t let go of her arms. Jayde could feel his fingers molding into the soft flesh of her triceps. Almost like he was branding her as his. Get a grip, Jayde! Focus!

“Let me help you with that,” he offered as he stared at her.

What the hell is he talking about? She was lost in his eyes. Oh, yeah, her bag. “N...n...no,” she stuttered. “I can do it.” She paused for a moment; his eyes were hazel with green flecks in them. “Can you let go of me?”

“I don’t want to,” he whispered, a response she almost missed. Almost. In a louder voice he said, “Sor-ry.”

The second his hands dropped from her body, she felt the loss. Jayde chalked it up to loads of sexual frustration and him being so damn fine. Oh, he was nice and tall, about six-three. She knelt down and began to shove everything back into her beach bag.

Moments later, she felt rather than saw, since she refused to look at him, his presence as he crouched down as well. His hands, lean yet strong and nicely tanned with clean fingernails, reached out and began gathering some of her scattered things.

“You don’t have to—” she protested.

“It’s entirely my fault that it happened,” he responded as he stood and offered a hand down to her.

****

Tyson couldn’t believe his past four months. He’d been forced out from work on indefinite leave be-cause of a “medical issue”—if that was one called a knife wound to the abdomen. Then, he’d arrived home early from the stakeout only to find his fiancée in his bed with another man. The guy was someone with more money and more time than Tyson.

Therefore, three and a half months after kicking her out, he’d booked himself a vacation to Belize be-cause he had to get away from people he knew, people who wanted to check in on him all the time.

He needed time to think about his future if he weren’t allowed back into the Teams. Tyson was a soli-tary man and didn’t have many people he would call friends outside the members of the Megalodon Team. He liked to be alone. He operated best alone.

So he’d come to this particular hangout along the beach for the first time since he’d been in the tourist town, and then he saw her. Sitting alone under a big umbrella sipping on a tall, cool drink, her full lips curved deliciously around a straw. He had no idea what she was doing alone because if she were his woman, she wouldn’t be left alone at all.

Tyson had literally frozen in place while he looked at her. Something from her had reached out to him and intertwined itself onto his very essence; if he hadn’t known better he would’ve sworn he was looking across the crowded café front at his soul mate. She was not what he would’ve expected his soul mate to be; but as of late, his life had been full of surprises.

Her skin was a perfect medium brown and she had shiny black hair that fell past her shoulders. Howev-er, it was her smile that touched a part of him he’d thought was dead. Then, while she was looking in his direction, a heated, intimate, and passionately private look had filled her face. He’d felt like a voyeur as he stared upon her. When her tongue had snuck out to wet her lips, he’d groaned. Turning around had been the only way for him to salvage what was left of his sanity. Even his ex-fiancée hadn’t affected him like this. Tyson had walked off, blending into the crowd until he’d gotten his control back.

Losing it was not his usual forte. In his line of work, it could be dangerous. Lieutenant Tyson Kincade was a Navy SEAL who was currently on TAD (Temporary Assigned Duty). He was waiting to hear if he’d be allowed to continue with the counterterrorism unit while on vacation. Yet that answer wasn’t as pressing as the need to see her again. When he’d turned back around, he saw she was getting ready to walk away.

Not one who usually jumped right in with a woman, Tyson surprised himself by starting for her. It had taken him over a month just to ask out his ex, and he was unsure of what to say to the mystery woman to break the ice. However, before he could come up with something he’d run into her, literally. Acting on pure instinct, he’d reached out to steady her, only to find he didn’t want to let her go. Ever.

So now, here she knelt at his feet, taking his mind to all sorts of places. Places it shouldn’t necessarily be heading. Like how those full lips of hers will—not would—feel on parts of his body. How her limbs seemed built to fit exactly in his. He loved the view she offered his lecherous eyes as her top exposed the swells of her breasts to him; he thoroughly enjoyed the green bra she wore. Unsure of what to do, he extended his hand to offer her assistance in returning to her feet.