Sex, Sin and Surf Page 8

  Each thrust felt like a promise of how much he cared for her. Her body clenched tightly around him as her orgasm crashed around her. Ben tensed and jerked and groaned out his own orgasm.

  He rolled off her and dragged her along with him so she rested in the crook of his arm. With Ben's body wrapped tightly around her, Celeste drifted off to sleep, imagining what it was going to be like as they continued their relationship.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ben looked completely alone as he stood staring at the ocean. Unable to stop herself, Celeste wrapped her arms around his waist. "What are you doing out here? I thought we were going to spend the night in bed."

  He turned in her arms and pulled her tightly against him. "We are, I was just thinking."

  "About what?"

  He placed a soft kiss against her forehead. "About how much I'm going to miss you. Your vacation just flew by."

  Celeste rested her head against his chest. If she had her way she'd never let go. "I'm going to miss you too." Placing her palms on his chest, she stared up at him. "I was serious. Why don't you come visit me in Seattle?"

  His muscles tensed. "I don't know, Cel. I don't really..." He paused and wrinkled his nose.

  "If it's the money, I'd be more than happy to pay for your ticket."

  "It's not the money." He laughed but the sound held no humor.

  Damn, she knew he was sensitive about her money. It just seemed so silly when she could afford to pay for his ticket. "Look, Ben, I want to do this. It would mean a lot to me if you came for a visit."

  He dropped his arms from around her waist and stepped back. "Geez, Cel, it's not the money. It's just..." He exhaled, running a hand through his hair, and faced the ocean. "Like I said, I just have really mixed feelings about the States."

  What they had was amazing. How could he not want to pursue this? Pride, stubbornness. Urgh, he was such a man. She stalked around him. Placing her hands on her hips, she met his stare.

  "How can anything between us work when you are so busy running from you past and I'm running so hard in the opposite direction?" she asked him.

  Celeste blinked rapidly to try to fight off tears that threatened to fall. This was supposed to be a simple vacation fling. How had everything gotten so off course? With Ben she wanted to build a future, but that was impossible with him living in Mexico and her in Seattle.

  "I'm not running from my past," Ben growled.

  "Of course you are, Ben." She smiled sadly at him. "You fight your heritage with everything in you and as a result you don't really belong anywhere."

  "Celeste, you don't know shit about my heritage."

  "You're right. I don't because you clam up every time I bring it up."

  Ben ran a hand roughly across his head. His hair stood up on end, pointing in every direction. She longed to smooth it down, to run her hands across his shoulders and ease the tension she could see building there but everything about his body language said hands off.

  "You wouldn't understand."

  "Try me. I might surprise you," she said and took a step toward him.

  "There's no point, you leave tomorrow."

  He looked at her. The sadness in his eyes spoke of a loss deeper than anything she could ever imagine. It broke her heart. Unable to stop herself, she wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'm sorry, Ben. I wish you could trust me."

  He kissed the top of her head. "So do I," he whispered the words so softly she wasn't sure if she had heard him correctly, but the ache in her chest said she had.

  She squeezed him tighter. "Thank you for making this vacation so amazing."

  He leaned back and placed his fingertips beneath her chin to force her to look up. "Your vacation isn't over yet," he said, bending down to kiss her gently on the lips.

  When she woke up the next morning, he was gone.

  *****

  She'd been back from her trip for two weeks and still the pain of leaving Ben hadn't lessoned at all. Her friends had tried to drag her out of her funk to no avail. The only thing that took her mind off him, even temporarily, was her gallery. Buried in work, she barely made it home before midnight most nights. Flipping her way through the pile of paperwork on her desk, Celeste knew tonight would be no different.

  Her assistant Todd's high-pitched squeal, followed by the sound of his footsteps rushing down the hallway, broke through her concentration. With Todd you never knew what he was squealing about--selling something in the gallery, a cute boy walking by. You name it, the man squealed.

  Todd was all but bouncing as he stood at the doorway to Celeste's office. She looked up. An amused smirk crossed her face. The man got excited about the silliest things.

  "What's up, Todd?"

  "I don't know why..." He paused and fanned his face. "Oh my gosh... Benedicto Ortega's agent just called and he's agreed to meet with you to discuss a showing."

  The contract she was holding slipped from her hand and fluttered to the floor. "Holy Shit. Are you kidding me?"

  "Nope." Todd clapped his hands together excitedly.

  "Wow. I've been trying to get him for over a year, and he's never been willing to even think about a showing." She jumped up from her chair and placed a smacking kiss on Todd's face as she walked past him. "We've got a shitload to do to get organized."

  "Celeste, you need to call his agent back first." Todd giggled.

  She stopped and turned around. "Right, sorry. I'm just a little bit excited about this whole idea." She took a deep breath to calm herself down. This was huge. A showing like this would put her over the top, ensuring her place as the go-to gallery in Seattle.

  Pulling out her chair, she slid back behind her desk, took another deep breath and picked up the phone.

  "Could I speak to Markus Sayer please?" She fought the urge to tap her pen while she waited.

  "Markus, hi, it's Celeste Kopp from Kopp's Gallery in Seattle."

  "Celeste, hi. I assume you are still interested in having a showing for Benedicto."

  "Absolutely. When were you thinking?"

  "Benedicto doesn't do showings without getting a feel for the gallery first."

  "Of course." She fought the urge to roll her eyes at the eccentricities of some artists.

  "How does next Thursday work for you?"

  She grabbed her day-planner and flipped it forward a week. Thursday, Thursday. She scanned the page. All clear. "Thursday is perfect. Do you need me to meet you at the airport?"

  "No, that's fine. We'll come into the gallery once we get settled. How does eleven a.m. sound?"

  "It sounds just great." She jotted the information in her planner. "Is there anything special Benedicto likes so I can have it on hand?" Placating the artists was a huge part of a successful showing. She could only imagine what a prima-donna someone with Benedicto Ortega's fame would be.

  Markus chuckled. "No, he's pretty easygoing. I think he's looking forward to checking out the Pike Street market and someone told him he had to try The Crab Pot, so I imagine that's where he'd like to eat if you need to get a reservation."

  At the mention of the restaurant her thoughts immediately drifted back to Mexico and her time with Ben. They'd argued about the best seafood and she'd told him he hadn't eaten seafood until he'd had the sea feast.

  "Celeste?"

  "Sorry, Markus, we can absolutely go there for lunch. At this time of year we won't need a reservation but he's right, it's a fantastic place."

  "Perfect, so we'll see you Thursday," Markus said, ending the conversation.

  The rest of the week flew by in a mad rush as Celeste and her employees worked tirelessly to get organized to impress Benedicto Ortega. Celeste couldn't believe he'd finally agreed to do a showing in her gallery. The man was a recluse, completely. camera shy. She'd hungrily consumed every piece of media on the man and she'd never even managed to see a picture of him. His ascetic personality was part of the appeal, and the art world loved him. He'd swept onto the art scene about three years before, but he only did about two
showings a year, one on the east coast and one on the west. To say he was sought after was an understatement.

  Thursday morning Celeste arrived at the gallery before the sun had even thought about rising. The gallery was immaculate. Benedicto Ortega would not find so much as a speck of dust on the art. Nerves had her wandering around straightening pictures that didn't need to be fixed.

  "Celeste, you're making me nervous. Go into your office and I'll call you when they get here."

  "Todd, are you insane? There's no way I can relax. What if he hates the way I have everything displayed? Or if he thinks we have the wrong feel. His work is pretty dark." She touched her finger against the edge of a whimsical statue of a dolphin jumping through the waves. "Oh shit, I should have switched out this stuff. I wanted to show him that we attracted an eclectic clientele, but maybe I just look as if I have no focus. Shit." She stared down at her trembling hands.

  Todd walked over and clasped her hands between his. "Celeste, calm down. You are completely freaking me out."

  "I know, I'm sorry, I've just never wanted a showing with an artist this bad. I've loved his work since I first saw it at a friend's gallery in New York. It was from his first showing, and I've been trying to get him ever since." Her hands were trembling so badly they were shaking both Todd's and her arms.

  "Cel?" a voice spoke from behind.

  She spun around. "Ben? Holy shit," she squealed and ran toward him. Crashing into his body, she threw her arms around him. She inhaled deeply as she squeezed him, letting Ben surround all of her senses. "Oh my God, what are you doing here?" She squeezed him tighter. Closing her eyes, she absorbed his strong, calming vibe, feeling some of her nervous energy fading away.

  "Benedicto?" a new voice said from the doorway of the gallery.

  Celeste pulled back. "Benedicto?" Her eyes darted from Ben to the man in the suit walking toward them. What the hell was going on?

  The newcomer walked up to Ben and Celeste. He stuck out his hand to Celeste. "Hello, I'm Markus Sayer and you are?"

  Celeste's mouth dropped open. "Markus Sayer," she whispered. Then turned to Ben. "You're Benedicto Ortega."

  Ben nodded, the easy confidence left his face as he stood before her chewing his bottom lip. "You still want to do a showing?" he asked.

  "Of course she still wants to do a showing," Markus stated with utter certainty.

  Ben shot him a look. "Markus, give us a minute. So Cel, you still want to do a showing for Benedicto Ortega?"

  "What the hell is going on, Ben? I just... I... I don't get what's happening. Why the hell wouldn't you have told me that you were an artist? What the fuck?"

  Todd's gasp beside her let her know that her control had completely slipped. Todd walked over to Markus and smiled. "Why don't we let them talk and I'll get you some coffee."

  "Benedicto, would you care to explain what's going on?" Markus asked.

  "I need to talk to Celeste alone for a minute," he said to Markus then turned to Celeste and stepped toward her. "Any chance you have an office so we can talk privately?"

  Celeste felt as if she'd been punched. Dazed, she made an arm gesture for Ben to follow and turned on her heel. On the way to her office her mind spun, trying to process what was happening. How the hell could her surfer be Benedicto Ortega? It didn't make sense. Ben ran a surf shop, he wasn't a sought-after artist.

  The moment they entered her office, she spun around and pinned him with a stare. "All right, talk."

  "Umm... I missed you?" Ben asked uneasily.

  "Don't fuck around, Ben. What the hell's going on?" Emotions ran rampant through her body. One part of her wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let go, the other part wanted to smack him for lying to her.

  Ben sat down on the edge of her desk. "Well, umm, obviously, I'm Benedicto Ortega, the artist you were supposed to meet today."

  "Yeah, I got that." The beginning of a headache threatened to spill over and she rubbed her forehead. "I just... I'm at a loss. Why didn't you tell me you were an artist?"

  He took a deep breath and exhaled. "It's complicated."

  "Fuck that, Ben. It's not complicated. How many conversations did we have about the surf shop and this gallery, how much we had in common with running our own businesses?" She laughed, an empty hollow sound torn from her chest. "You don't think that would have been a good time to say, 'Oh hey by the way I'm the most sought after artist going right now. Your gallery has been bugging me for years for a showing.'" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Jesus, Ben, I feel like a complete idiot. I had no idea."

  He reached out and took her hand in his. "I know, Cel, and I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to mislead you."

  "Yeah, right."

  "No, seriously, that wasn't my intention at all. It's just my art..." He paused. "I don't know how to explain it."

  "Try."

  He exhaled again. "I told you I had mixed feelings about being in the States."

  She nodded her head. "Mmm hmm."

  "Well, that's a big part of it. I love doing the artwork that I do and I'd be an idiot not to enjoy the money but the rest..." He shrugged. "I don't know...the rest just doesn't sit right, you know?"

  "No, I don't know. And you know why I don't know? Because you wouldn't talk to me about any of it. How many times did I try to get you to open up, Ben? To really talk?"

  "I know, Cel." He pushed his hand through his hair. "Shit, I know. I fucked up. But ugh..." He sighed. "At first it was a vacation thing, right? What was the point in talking about it, getting into any of that? Then after, I don't know, yeah lots of galleries wanted me, but I didn't know for sure if yours did or if you'd even heard of me, Markus keeps track of all that kind of stuff. Plus, I didn't want to change things."

  "Bullshit, Ben. There's a hell of a lot more to it than that." She stared at him, hating that her instinct was to wrap her arms around him and take the despair out of his eyes.

  He looked at her, neither of them speaking, then he sighed. "You really want to get into all of this right now?"

  "Yeah, I do."

  "Fine, I owe you that I guess. Look, the thing is, when I came to the States it wasn't what I'd expected." He looked down toward their hands. "At first my mom and I were sent to Utah. Shit, Utah, Cel. Do you know what that's like for a kid from El Salvador? We were sent to this small town. We were the only non-white, non-English speaking people there. No ocean, nothing familiar."

  He stood and paced around the room. "Let's just say people weren't overly tolerant of the differences." He glanced at her sadly. "My mom got a job as a housekeeper. It was a pretty big change from her job as a nurse." He shrugged. "She was willing to do anything to keep me safe, you know?" He laughed, but the sound held no humor, it was sad and resigned.

  "The kids in our town weren't exactly welcoming to the new kid. I was pretty different, really pissed off at the world, just into my art and surfing, which as you can imagine wasn't something that popular with no ocean nearby." His hands bunched into fists as he talked. "At first it wasn't too bad, but when I was fourteen, a bunch of kids ganged up on me and tied me to a chair and beat the shit out of me because they didn't like me or some shit like that. Fuck if I know what the real reason was."

  He sat back down on the edge of the desk. "After that, my mom went into overdrive working to save money. Finally when I was seventeen, she'd saved enough and we packed all our stuff in the car and drove out to California so I could be near the ocean." He smiled. "She knew how important that was to me. Plus, there were more Spanish-speaking people there so we wouldn't stand out so much."

  Ben ran his hands over his face. "Shit, Cel, it just wasn't the whole land-of-the-free thing we'd expected. My dad was dead, for what? Stupid prejudices and beliefs, then we came here and in some ways it was so amazing, but in others it was just as bigoted as where I came from."

  Celeste stepped toward him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled his head against her breasts. Cuddling him, she wished she could take away the
years of pain. "I'm so sorry, Ben. But you have to know not everyone is like that."

  "I do." He shrugged. "With my art it's different, none of that shit matters. I love talking to people about it and seeing how what I've created affects them is amazing, but being on display personally is a bit much sometimes. After a couple of weeks, I start to get a little stir crazy and need some downtime and the comfort of something that feels like home and Mexico works for that."

  "I can understand that. It can be pretty hairy leading up to a showing."

  "I just feel kind of...torn I guess. Part of me loves the lure of it all, but like I said, I have some mixed feelings about everything." His face nuzzled against her breast. "I missed you."

  Threading her fingers through his hair, she inhaled the fragrance that was so uniquely him. "I missed you too."

  He squeezed her tighter. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was an artist. But wasn't this a good surprise?"

  She smacked him on the back. "Do you have any idea how stressed I've been about you coming today? I changed the displays four times. I changed my outfit just as many times this morning. If I'd known it was you, I wouldn't have been such a basket case."

  He looked up at her and raised his eyebrow.

  "Okay, I would have been, but still. So what does this mean?" She wasn't able to keep the hope and longing out of her voice.

  His right hand cupped the back of her neck and pulled her face toward him until their noses touched and he whispered, "It means that when you left all that shit didn't matter anymore. All I wanted was to be with you."

  Her heart flipped. God, please let him mean what I think he does. "So, are you staying for a bit?"

  He threaded his fingers through her hair. "I'm staying for as long as you'll have me."

  She leaned down and brushed her lips against his. At the soft touch, he groaned. The needy sound, so hungry, called to her on an elemental level. Lord she'd missed him.