Silken Tide

  Silken Tide

  Danielle E. Gauwain

  Published 2015

  ISBN: 978-1-62210-265-5

  Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © Published 2015, Danielle E. Gauwain. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Liquid Silver Books

  http://LSbooks.com

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Blurb

  Mark has it all: a great job, a posh apartment in New York’s Upper West Side, and an attractive girlfriend to hang on the arm of his expensive suits. But when Mark’s world of power and pretty things gets turned upside down, he has no choice but to return to his hometown of Silk Cove, to live with his father that he has not seen in nearly twenty years.

  An aspiring artist with dreams of opening her own gallery, it only took Jessica six months in a big city to realize that Silk Cove was where she belonged. Even though she earns a meager wage as a waitress at a local diner, her simple life in Silk Cove suits her well. She has everything she needs…everything but love.

  When Jessica and Mark’s worlds collide, sparks fly. But their romance is challenged by a string of unexplained events and Mark’s creed, born of abandonment and mistrust. Mark’s set of principles is put to the test when he must face who, and what, he is. Jessica must decide if love is worth a second, or even third chance.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to the wild at heart, and to those who try to tame them.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank Liquid Silver Books for helping me share my story with the world.

  I would also like to thank my editor, April Allen, for her dedication and hard work.

  Prologue

  The clouds hung low over the choppy water. The day was overcast, yet a luminescent aura fell on the beach all around him. Rocks jutted from the sea and seemed to appear and disappear in the turbulent water. The salty mist from the sea tickled his nose and his hair lay dampened against his forehead.

  He had built the perfect sand castle. The columns that he had molded with his small hands were draped in seaweed in order to camouflage the fortress from enemies. Seashells adorned the windows that he had carved with his plastic shovel. It was solid; a fortification that would certainly withstand the beating of any waves the Maine coast had to offer.

  He folded his legs underneath him and sat back to admire his work. Something is missing, he thought. Then, it came to him. A fortress of this magnitude needed a moat. He rolled up onto his hands and knees, and dragged his shovel around the base of the castle. Once he was satisfied with the depth of the trench, he brushed the sand from his hands, snatched his pail, and ran to the shore.

  The frothy tide moved in over his little feet, chilling his toes, and then the water receded. As the ocean rolled in once more, he bent down and submerged his pail in the cold water. The thin handle stretched over his tiny palm as he laboriously lifted the bucket from the ocean. When he straightened his posture, his eyes were drawn to an object sitting on a rock some distance from the shore. The heavy pail dangled from his hand as he tried to better focus his eyes through the sea spray.

  At first he thought he saw a seal sprawled out across the rock, but then he realized that the figure was too long and lean to be a seal. Upon further inspection, he noticed that its skin was silvery and iridescent, unlike any dull gray sealskin that he had ever seen. The waves crashed against the rock, making it difficult to see the face of the radiant creature. The sudden presence of his father’s firm hand on his shoulder broke his concentration.

  “Come on, son. It’s time to head in.” His father’s calm voice was barely audible over the undulating sea.

  “Daddy, did you see it?” He looked up at his father.

  “I didn’t see anything. Come on, let’s go.” This time, his father’s voice held an edge of urgency.

  “It’s over there, Daddy. Let’s go see what it is!”

  “Not today, son.” His father’s hand was large around his small fingers.

  As his father led him from the shore, his eyes searched the beach for his sandy fort. His shoulders slumped when he saw that the tide had begun to swallow his castle. Once a solid fort of shells and sand, he watched as his creation was reduced to nothing more than a lump of mud and tangled seaweed. He only turned his back for a moment! How could he have been so careless to build so close to the water’s edge? Water sloshed from his bucket making a trail in the sand as his father led him up the beach. He glanced over his shoulder once more at the rock protruding from the ocean. The being was gone.

  Chapter 1

  Before stepping out of the shower onto the heated tile, Mark wrapped a towel snugly around his waist. He wiped the condensation from his bathroom mirror and examined his reflection. His brown eyes were slightly bloodshot from working long hours at the office; nothing that a little Visine wouldn’t fix. He ran his hands over the sides of his face making sure that he didn’t miss one hair while shaving in the shower. Nice and smooth. A far cry from the straggly beards he was accustomed to seeing back home in Maine.

  A small fisherman’s town on the coast of Maine, Silk Cove was where Mark had called home for eighteen years. It was a small town where fishing wasn’t just a way of life; it was life. It was a small town where the residents rolled with the tide and took a passive approach to living. It was a town that was too small for a boy with big dreams. With an academic scholarship to NYU in one hand and his pride in the other, Mark packed everything he could fit into one duffle bag an hour after high school graduation. Once he made the obligatory promises to his father and his friends that he would keep in touch, he set down the highway in an old rusted out pickup truck. That was eighteen years ago. He never looked back.

  Mark hit the campus parties more than he did the books and his grades reflected the same. Even though his GPA was less than stellar, it was enough to earn a business degree from a top university and help him climb the corporate ladder in Manhattan. Mark was sharp and devastatingly handsome. He became the “go to” guy in his office, a title that he rather enjoyed. When he spoke, people listened. Why sit on a boat and be at the mercy of the sea, when he could sit in a swivel chair and call the shots?

  It didn’t take long for Mark to figure out that women were attracted to success, like trout to a fly fishing line. He was the complete package and wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Women; he could have his pick. And he did, in the bathroom stall at corporate parties, in the mailroom, on top of the copier. Don’t forget about the conference room, blinds drawn, door locked. Then, he met Tammy.

  Hired as a temp, Mark could still remember the first time he saw her two years ago. She had worn heels that showed off the definition of her calves and a skirt that was precariously short. She had bent over to retrieve some files from the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet and the seam of her stockings peeked out from beneath her skirt. She had stood upright and adjusted her clothing, taking a moment to look over her shoulder, as if to make sure no one was watching. That’s when they made eye contact. She had shot him a flirtatious grin and flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder. The rest was history.

  Tammy had since quit the temp jobs to pursue an acting career and Mark moved her into his Upper West Side apartment. She had been to some auditions,
but didn’t get any callbacks. Not yet. When she wasn’t at the beauty salon or Bloomingdale’s, she was consulting her plastic surgeon on what needed a little work. Yes, she spent too much of Mark’s money. But he needed a piece of arm candy for all of his corporate parties. Yes, she flirted a little too much. But who cares? She was going home with him at the end of the night. Tammy fit into Mark’s world of pretty things and that was all that he needed. Love was not at the top of his agenda. Women couldn’t be trusted, especially with something as important as his heart. She gave him the room he needed and didn’t ask for the impossible. He couldn’t commit to tomorrow. He got bored too easily. He did his best to commit to the moment and that seemed to be enough for her. And because of that, she was quite the woman in his eyes.

  Mark unwrapped the towel from his waist and dried his dark hair. As he raised his hands to put a dab of gel in his hair, he felt Tammy press against his back. Her hands emerged from under his arms and she grazed her manicured nails across his defined chest.

  “Racquetball after work has really been paying off for you.” She kissed his bare back.

  Mark smiled in the mirror, then turned around to meet Tammy’s gaze. He bent down, kissed her, and leaned against the sink.

  “Thank you. Is this new?” Mark rubbed the silk of Tammy’s blue teddy between his fingers.

  “Yes. It brings out my blue eyes. I thought you would like it.”

  She stood back and ran her hands suggestively over her large breasts. Mark couldn’t help but think that he paid for those, too.

  “It’s very nice, honey,” he said.

  “Why don’t we go in the bedroom for a little while?” She ran her hand down his chest, to his carved abdomen and bit her lower lip.

  “I wish I could, Tam. But I can’t be late. I have to get to the office.” He rubbed his thumb over her chin.

  Mark walked into the bedroom and opened the closet door. He moved the jackets and pants across the rod several times in search for the perfect ensemble.

  “Tammy, did you pick up my navy blue Armani suit from the dry cleaner?”

  “Oh, damn. I forgot. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, try not to forget that the plumber is coming to fix the dishwasher this morning.” Mark let out a sigh, as he picked out another suit to wear.

  “I promise I won’t forget.”

  Mark adjusted his tie and stood back in front of the full-length mirror on the closet door to admire his reflection once more. His father had always told him that a lot could be told about a man by the shoes on his feet. Mark’s shoes were neat and shined. He was a man of pride and influence. No seaweed-laden galoshes here; a sign of slovenliness and vulnerability in his opinion. He grabbed his wallet from the nightstand and tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket. He walked toward the front door and fastened his watch to his wrist at the same time.

  “I mean it, Tammy. Don’t forget about the plumber.”

  “Okay, okay. Oh, and, Mark, my friends asked me to do lunch today.”

  Mark reached into the pocket of his coat and retrieved his wallet without taking his eyes off her. “Here’s the credit card. I don’t have any cash on me,” he said.

  As Tammy attempted to take the card out his hand, he held onto it for a moment longer. He lowered his head so that his eyes were level with hers. “Lunch, Tammy. Not Barney’s.”

  She nodded and smiled. “Are you sure you don’t have time for a little something?” she asked.

  Mark heard the plastic card hit the hardwood floor. Tammy unzipped the front of his slacks and placed her hand inside the opening. He closed his eyes. He was always amazed that such dainty hands could pull at his shaft with such strength that it made every muscle in his body contract. When he opened his eyes again, he found her on her knees in front of him. She stared up at him as she pulled him out his pants and placed her mouth around his shaft. Mark leaned against the wall and put his hands on the back of her head. This was yet another reason why she was quite the woman in his eyes. Quite the woman, he thought.

  Chapter 2

  It was the first week of May and the cool morning air felt refreshing against Mark’s flushed face. As he moved past the brownstones of the Upper West Side, Mark checked his watch while he walked down the sidewalk toward the C train. Tammy’s talented mouth made him a couple of minutes late that morning. A couple of minutes delay in Manhattan could make him an hour late for work, depending on the morning pedestrian traffic. He quickened his pace, forgoing his usual stop for coffee at the corner bodega. Finally, he arrived at the subway entrance and descended the steps onto the platform, which was already swarming with New Yorkers.

  Mark widened his stance and held onto the bar as the subway train left the Upper West Side and raced toward Midtown Manhattan. The crowd on the train didn’t bother him that morning. He was still riding high from Tammy’s amazing blowjob, but found himself trying to recuperate financially from her latest round of plastic surgery. He didn’t want to admit it, but Tammy reaching into his pocket for more than his cock had him living beyond his means. As the subway neared his destination, he resolved himself to the fact that he would be working a lot of overtime to recover the money for the rent.

  The metallic screech of the train’s brakes broke his thoughts and the subway doors slid open. He stepped out onto the platform and took the stairs two at a time up to the street level, merging skillfully into the dense morning foot traffic. He walked several blocks until he arrived at his office building. The blaring of horns and industrial drone of the city faded as soon as he walked through the heavy glass doors and into the grand lobby of the building. He caught the elevator doors just as they were closing and managed to squeeze into the crowded cart. He glanced around him and was still amazed that he never saw a face twice in this city. He loved New York; he could make a name for himself or remain nameless. People only knew what he wanted them to know, unlike the small coastal towns of Maine where his every movement would be documented in the Silk Cove Town Crier.

  The bitter aroma of early morning coffee that had been abandoned on a burner filled Mark’s nostrils as he moved past the neat lines of cubicles in his office. He swiftly turned the corner to the row of desks that housed his team of representatives. He lingered at the end of the aisle observing them for a couple of moments, an action that he believed effective in demonstrating his power over them as team leader. When the meaningless morning chatter was replaced by the sound of dutiful fingers tapping on keyboards, he knew that his tactic was successful. He moved slowly down the row, looking from side to side at each of his team members. Some went out of their way to say good morning, others picked up the receivers of their phones seemingly to avoid any conversation at all. It was all the same to Mark. Whether it was out of awe or fear, respect was respect.

  Mark’s desk sat at the head of the row of cubicles, where he could overlook his team. He unfastened the last button of his jacket and took his seat. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his chest. He took his eyes off his workers for a moment to admire the empty corner office to his left. The sweet smell of success seemed to seep out from its open door, and he envisioned himself sitting in the leather chair that sat behind a desk larger than his. Mark had heard through the grapevine that corporate was creating an upper management position. A position that would mean a substantial pay raise. A position that he would undoubtedly be vying for, but he was sure that his abilities as a team leader would shine and get him the job. It was an opportunity that he would fight for, as it would give him the chance to climb out of the financial hole that he had allowed Tammy to dig. That office would be his. Suddenly, Mark’s thoughts of grandeur were broken by his boss’ voice.

  “Mark, may I have a word with you in my office?” his boss asked.

  Mark took one last look over his team before leaving his desk and followed his superior into his office. His boss had already taken a seat behind his desk by the time Mark walked through the door. Windows spanned from wall to wall behind hi
s desk, boasting an amazing view of the hazy New York skyline. Mark flashed a winning smile and before he had the chance to approach the desk, his manager’s voice interrupted him mid-stride.

  “Close the door, please,” his boss said.

  Mark closed the door softly behind him and stood in the middle of the room. His stomach tensed with excitement. This meeting had to be about the upper management position. It was now or never; this was his chance to sell his abilities and knock everyone else out of the running.

  “Have a seat, Mark. How are you today?”

  “Very well, sir.” Mark took a chair across from his boss.

  “That’s good. I called you in here today to talk to you about some rumors that have been circulating the office.”

  “I think I know what you are about to say, sir.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, sir. And I just want to let you know that if I am afforded the promotion, I won’t let you down.”

  “Actually, Mark, that’s not what I wanted to discuss with you.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Last month’s reports came in and our expectation for growth fell short. In fact, it’s been trending that way for some time now. The economy is stagnant. Unfortunately, hard times call for hard decisions and we have had to let some people go.”

  “You don’t even need to ask, sir. I’m willing to put in the overtime if we are short staffed.”

  “Well, Mark. That’s just it. I’m sorry to have to tell you this on such short notice, but we are going to have to let you go.”

  Mark’s hands tightened down over the wooden armrests of his chair. A numbness born of shock seemed to travel from his feet all the way to his head.

  “You’re joking, right?” Mark could barely form the words.

  “I wish I was.”

  “Why me? I work hard. I get results.”

  “The decision is purely financial, Mark. It was not based at all on performance.”