Monarch Beach Page 16

  “Just for the summer. I go to USC, and my boyfriend is a summer lifeguard at Main Beach.” Gemma folded napkins as we talked.

  “I see you two met.” Edward came up behind me and put his hand on my back. “Aren’t I lucky to have this beautiful woman helping us?” He smiled at me.

  “It’s fun. I haven’t been doing anything but yoga for three weeks,” I said, and blushed.

  “Gemma, maybe you could tell Amanda the specials so she has more ammo for the next rush of diners. I have to go shell some shrimp.” He rubbed my back and headed to the kitchen.

  For the next hour I worked beside Gemma, keeping the flow moving. I liked the low buzz of excitement in the air, the clatter of forks and knives, the sound of corks popping, and the thud of plates heaped with seafood landing on tables. Every now and then Edward would catch my eye and wink, or give me one of his broad, crinkly smiles. When Gemma flipped the closed sign on the front door at ten p.m., my feet hurt but I felt pleasantly energized.

  “I’m going to grab some fish and chips and go home.” Gemma neatly stacked the menus behind the counter. “Edward is really nice and lets me take leftovers for my boyfriend. He’s always starving.”

  “That’s because he’s a linebacker at SMU,” Edward said as he came up next to me and draped his arm over my shoulder.

  “He is, during the school year,” Gemma blushed, “but he’s hungry all the time.”

  “My son is eight and he just took up surfing. He eats for an hour straight at night: grilled cheese sandwiches, burgers, pasta. Last night he ordered three entrées from the kids’ menu and ate them all,” I said, laughter in my voice.

  “Again, thank you for helping out tonight. I really appreciated it,” Gemma said.

  “See, she doesn’t bite,” Edward murmured, after Gemma had gathered several servings of fish, chips, tartar sauce, and French bread and gone home.

  “What do you mean?” I colored. Edward stood at the cash register and I sat in the hostess chair, rubbing my feet.

  “I mean,” he said as he pulled me out of the chair and kissed me slowly on the lips, “not all restaurant owners want to bonk their hostesses, or their waitresses, or their chefs.” He kissed me again, slow, soft kisses like raindrops.

  “I can see that.” I kissed him back. He put his arms around me and pulled my face close to his.

  “Let’s close up and get out of here.”

  * * *

  We left the waitresses and the busboys to finish wiping down the tables. Edward took me to the kitchen to introduce me to his chef, a young man with oily hair and giant hands, and to his partner, Sam, who was moaning about how much shrimp he’d have to buy at the market in the morning.

  “Sam was the best creative director Ogilvy ever had.” Edward punched Sam’s shoulder lightly.

  “Thanks.” Sam wore owl-shaped glasses and a brown bow tie. “It seems we’re out of shrimp. Not a very clever campaign when you run out of product.” He shook his head.

  “Sam is always worrying,” Edward said to me. “That’s why we’re so successful.”

  “We’re like Laurel and Hardy,” Sam agreed. “Edward’s out front making it look easy, while I’m in the back sweating the details.”

  “Yes, but remember you get sixty percent of the take, and you go home to a beachfront house in Emerald Bay with a community tennis court. You’re paid more to worry more.”

  “He’s right,” Sam said and smiled at me. “But Edward’s the grease of the operation. People wouldn’t come through the doors if it wasn’t for him.”

  “Thanks for buttering up my date; we have to go. Amanda turns into a pumpkin at midnight, and her mother will come after me with a pitchfork.” Edward grabbed his keys from a ring on the wall and opened the back door for me.

  We climbed into the Mini, and I took off my pumps and slid my feet under me.

  “You have a really nice group of people there,” I said.

  “It’s not family, but it’s like the theme song from Cheers. It’s nice to be somewhere where everyone knows my name,” Edward said.

  “I really enjoyed myself. At La Petite Maison I always thought I’d flatten a fondue by accident, and the whole restaurant would deflate.” I slid my hair out of its ponytail.

  “I can’t see you sticking those manicured fingers in a fondue.” He eased out of the back lane and turned the car onto PCH.

  “Figuratively speaking. Andre never made me feel welcome. There was always a crisis in the kitchen he had to take care of, or a reservation dilemma he had to solve. If I ever stopped by during business hours he shooed me out the door.”

  “That’s because he didn’t want to be caught with the hen in the hen house. Even if he was a clever criminal, one of his sex partners might have given him away.”

  “I never realized that,” I replied.

  “Generally restaurants are fun places to be, that’s why I agreed to go in with Sam after I quit the law firm. Not a lot of people sue you if they don’t like the scampi. You serve them a good dinner, pair it with a nice wine, and send them home happy.”

  “You do make it look easy.” I smiled at him.

  “Well, thank you. I really liked having you there. You’re a ray of sunshine.”

  We turned into the gates of the St. Regis, but instead of swinging up to the front entrance, Edward drove the Mini down to the golf course and pulled into the parking lot.

  “What are we doing?” I asked.

  “I promise I’ll get you home by midnight, but if I pull up to the lobby, four valets will swoop down on the car and I won’t get to say good night.” He pulled me to him and kissed my neck. “Like this.”

  He took my hand and held it in his, and with his other hand he stroked my cheeks and my lips. He moved his hand down the front of my dress and opened my jacket with three soft snaps of its buttons. The jacket fell off and he put his hands under my breasts and gently squeezed them out of the dress.

  “Edward,” I said uncertainly.

  “Every part of you is gorgeous.” He took his fingers and rubbed my nipples, and then he bent down and kissed them so they stood up pink and erect. I sat, pushed back in the seat, like a schoolgirl. I didn’t want him to stop, it was so erotic not knowing what he was going to do next, but I didn’t want to fuck in a car either.

  “Edward, we shouldn’t,” I whispered.

  “I know.” He let go of my breasts, and then he gently hiked up my dress, grabbed the edge of my panties, and slipped two fingers warmly inside me.

  “Oh God, Edward.” I gripped the side of the seat. I could feel his fingers deep inside me. My body strained to reach something I couldn’t define. His fingers thrust deeper, stroking me, guiding me. My legs fell open, trembling. I was so incredibly, deliciously wet; I felt I was going to burst.

  “I’m going to be a good boy and stop.” He pulled his fingers out, and sat back in the driver’s seat. “I know your mother wouldn’t approve of me making love to her daughter in the front seat of a Mini. But you’re so beautiful, Amanda.”

  Neither of us said anything. I knew if I opened my mouth it would be to say “Please, fuck me, now,” so I stayed silent while he started the car and drove to the lobby entrance.

  “I’ll call you in the morning,” he said.

  “Good night.” I got out of the car, smoothed my dress, and pulled the jacket tight around my chest.

  * * *

  I took off my shoes in the hallway and crept into the suite. My mother’s door was closed. I peeked in on Max. He was sprawled across his bed, as if he had fallen asleep before he hit the mattress. I went into my room, shut the door, and started the bath. I waited till the bath was full of hot water. Then I unsnapped my dress, stepped out of my underwear, and submerged myself under water. Only when the bath was full of bubbles did I finally let myself think.

  My first thought was that I was a tramp. I was a married woman, still wearing a wedding ring (for Max’s sake), and I had let another man finger me. What would Stephanie say? I b
lew out a batch of bubbles and tried to stay calm. I hadn’t had sex; it was only heavy petting. But then I remembered the way Edward’s fingers felt inside me, the deep, mysterious sensation of exploration, and I felt the warm, sweet wetness come over me again.

  I took a deep breath and tried to think. Was I really ready for a new relationship? What if there was any remote, completely unrealistic chance of putting my family back together? What if Andre promised to take a monk’s vow of celibacy or be cursed by God? Had I blown it? What was I doing almost sleeping with a man I had known for two weeks?

  I sat in the bath till the digital bathroom clock read one a.m. Then I drained the bath, wrapped myself in a St. Regis bath sheet, and got into bed. I closed my eyes, without having come to a single conclusion, except that the whole night had felt so good.

  * * *

  The next morning I was awake before my mother. I seemed to have a frenetic energy, and instead of being exhausted from only sleeping six hours, I attacked the gym and did forty minutes on the treadmill. Then I joined a nine a.m. yoga class, and afterward went to the breakfast buffet and ate melon, strawberries, and a poached egg on toast. I checked my phone and saw I had a missed text. It was from Edward; it said, “Scouring the markets for more shrimp. Sam in panic. Call you soon. Love E.”

  I was happy I didn’t have to talk to Edward yet. My thoughts were still a mess. I had to bring myself down to earth. I left the gym and walked up to the lobby and out onto the balcony. I tucked myself into a corner chair and called Stephanie.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “That sounds like a guilty ‘hi,’” Stephanie replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Usually you call me and launch into what Andre’s done, or what should you do about Edward, today it’s just ‘hi.’ What’s up?”

  “Are you clairvoyant? Maybe I’m just calling to see what you’re doing.”

  “We’re doing the same exciting things we were doing last time you called. Graham is making me sand French fries and Zoe is serving them to me. Gisella is back so the Indian fort is gone, but Glenn is still out of town, so Graham and Zoe are sleeping in our bed. With me. What have you been up to?”

  “Um…” I said.

  “Cough it up, Amanda. Remember, your husband fucked his chef, standing up, in front of your eyes. Nothing you’ve done can be as bad as that.”

  “Okay,” I exhaled. “Edward drove me home from the restaurant last night and we did some really heavy petting in his car.”

  “What does ‘really heavy petting’ mean? We’re fifteen years out of high school, I’m not up on the lingo.”

  “I let him finger me,” I whispered into the phone.

  “Amanda, naughty!” She whistled.

  “You’re not helping. I feel so guilty.”

  “That’s the only thing you shouldn’t be feeling. Like Clinton said, if you didn’t inhale you weren’t smoking. You’re still a virgin.”

  “Ha, ha,” I said. “I feel like a bad mother, I’m still married. Max doesn’t know anything that’s going on.”

  “Max doesn’t need to know anything, he’s eight years old. As long as he’s fed and bathed and entertained, you’re a great mom.”

  “He is having a good time,” I conceded. “He’s surfing every day with the girl from Kids’ Club. He’s a fanatic.”

  “See, no need to worry there. What do you want?”

  “That’s what I don’t know! I really like Edward. He’s funny and sweet and he tells me I’m beautiful.”

  “You are beautiful, that’s not enough. What do you see in him?” Stephanie asked.

  I thought about it. “I see someone who has it all figured out. He’s been through a divorce and has made himself a new life. And I don’t know if I’m just horny, but he really turns me on.”

  “Probably just horny, not that there is anything wrong with that,” Stephanie said.

  “Seriously, I never thought I would want to go to bed with another man, but I do.”

  “Has he brought you flowers?” Stephanie asked.

  “He brought my mother flowers,” I replied.

  “Has he taken you out to dinner? Bought you jewelry?”

  “We can’t go out to dinner, what would Max say?”

  “You’re making excuses. No sex until you have been sufficiently wined and dined. I stand by my earlier advice: Make him wait,” Stephanie said.

  “But I’m not making him wait, I’m making me wait,” I protested.

  “It’s good for you, builds character. I’m proud of you. You’re making great strides in erasing Andre from your mental landscape. Just ease up on the gas pedal.”

  “Fine,” I mumbled.

  “You sound like Zoe when I tell her she can’t get her ears pierced yet. I miss you, Amanda. I have no one to gripe with.”

  “I’ll be home soon, three more weeks,” I said. I hung up and gazed at the ocean. Summer would be over in three weeks, and I had no idea what would happen next.

  * * *

  I changed into a bathing suit and took the tram to the beach to watch Max surf. I put my phone, a Vogue, and some sunscreen in a bag and slung it over my shoulder. I promised myself a peaceful afternoon, but the fact that Edward hadn’t called weighed on me.

  Max came running when he saw me and covered me with sand. “Hey, Mom. You have to see me stand up. Erin timed me, twelve minutes!” Max beamed.

  “That’s fantastic,” I said. Max was almost completely blond now, and new freckles appeared through his layers of sunscreen. “Let me put my towel down, and then I’ll watch.” I laid the towel on the sand, took my phone out of my bag, and sat down. Suddenly, I felt very tired. The late night, the morning workout, and the conversation with Stephanie had drained me. All I wanted was to curl up and sleep.

  I was just drifting off when my phone rang.

  “Good afternoon, sunshine.” It was Edward.

  “Hi,” I said, and sat up.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier. But I found twenty dozen shrimp at a dirt-cheap price. I am the hero of the hour.”

  “That’s great,” I said.

  “Listen, I have to work a long day, and tomorrow I promised I’d help Edward buy a new truck to take back to school. He’s turning into a North Carolina hillbilly.”

  “Sure,” I replied. Maybe Edward was trying to back off. Maybe a finger fuck was all he wanted.

  “But I thought we could have lunch at my house on Saturday,” he continued.

  “Max is supposed to go ocean kayaking on Saturday, but I guess I could change it.” I didn’t look forward to an afternoon of trying to get two words out of Jessica.

  “My kids are going to be in Pasadena for the weekend. I was hoping it could be just you and me.”

  I could feel the wetness creep back between my legs. “That would be lovely,” I mumbled.

  “Great, I’ll pick you up at noon. We’ll have the whole afternoon,” he said.

  “See you.” I hung up. I was going to spend the whole afternoon alone with Edward in his house. I was not going to tell Stephanie or my mother, because I had no idea what I was doing.

  * * *

  Saturday morning Max and I had breakfast at the Pool Grille. He ate pancakes, cereal, yogurt, a banana, and three slices of bacon. I managed half a piece of toast and two bites of grapefruit. My stomach was in knots of anticipation. I had spent the last few days either in the gym or at the beach with Max, so I wouldn’t have time to think. At least I was fit and tan. After breakfast, I dropped Max off at Kids’ Club. He was so excited about sea kayaking he barely registered a good-bye.

  “We’ll probably be back by five,” Erin said.

  “Great, have fun, guys.” I took the elevator up to the suite. My mother was flipping through Architectural Digest.

  “Max is off on his great adventure,” I said.

  “And what you are up to?” she asked. She was wearing a Lilly Pulitzer pink-and-green linen dress, and she had had her hair done at the salon.


  “Edward is taking me to lunch,” I replied.

  “It’s a beautiful day. Where is he taking you?” Her makeup was perfectly applied, pale pink blush on her cheeks and deep red lipstick on her mouth. Every day she looked more like the mother I knew growing up, and less like the stick she had become since my father died.

  “He didn’t say.” I gave her an innocent smile. “I better get ready.”

  I walked into my closet, irritated at myself for lying to her. I could have said, “I’m going to Edward’s for lunch.” She didn’t know I had almost come in the front seat of his car, or that all I could think about for the last few days was “Was he inviting me to lunch or to bed?” I picked out a strapless Juicy sundress and Gucci sandals. I brushed my hair straight over my shoulders and slipped a couple of silver bangles on my arm.

  “You’re not wearing much,” my mother appraised me when I walked back into the living room.

  “It’s ninety degrees outside! You have to stop treating me like I’m twelve, Mom. Do you want to measure the length of my skirt?”

  “No, but I can tell what color underwear you’re wearing. It’s yellow.” She frowned.

  “You cannot see my underwear.” I examined myself in the hall mirror. “I told Edward I’d meet him downstairs. I’ll be back to pick up Max from Kids’ Club.” I kissed her on the cheek.

  “What time is Max done?” she asked.

  “Erin said they’d be back by five,” I replied.

  “That’s a very long lunch.” She gave me one of her pointed looks.

  “I’m very hungry.” I smiled, and closed the door.

  * * *

  Edward’s car was waiting outside. I climbed in and he kissed me on the cheek. He let out a low whistle. “You are becoming quite the Southern California beauty queen.”

  “My mother complained my skirt is too short,” I laughed.

  He gently brushed his fingers over my thighs. “Not from where I’m sitting.”

  It was one of those breathtakingly beautiful summer days, when I couldn’t imagine being anywhere but right next to the Pacific Ocean. We had the windows down in the Mini and the salt air was intoxicating.

  “Sometimes the ocean is so stunning, it’s too much,” he said.