When Valentines Collide (8 page)

“W
hat the hell do you mean there's no conference?” Chanté rounded on her best friend once the group arrived at the front desk of The Tree of Life Spa and Resort. “I have a full itinerary and workshop program—”

“I sort of made those up,” Edie admitted and then used her husband as a human shield in case Chanté put her good pinching fingers to use.

“You made them up?” Matthew and Chanté barked.

“Why would you do something like that?” Chanté asked. “Do you know what I had to do to get this time off from the radio station on such short notice?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Valentine?” A calm, gentle female voice spoke from behind them.

Chanté and Matthew turned cautiously toward an elderly white-haired woman who was just shy of five feet tall.

“Hello, I'm Dr. Margaret Gardner. Welcome to The Tree of Life Resort. I can't tell you how excited I was that you two had registered for our Sexuality and Liberation program.”

“Come again?” Matthew shot a glare at Seth.

“Don't worry,” Dr. Gardner continued. “Nothing is more important to us than our guests' privacy. We're just thrilled for the opportunity to introduce an alternative method to relationship healing.”

“Uh-huh.” Matthew digested the kind woman's words and then reached over to close his wife's gaping mouth. “This Sexuality and Liberation program of yours…exactly how does that work?”

Before Dr. Gardner could respond, Chanté finally found her voice. “Excuse us for a minute, won't you?” She grabbed Matthew by the arm and tugged him aside. “I don't care how it works. We're not staying!”

“Oh, c'mon, Chanté,” Edie jumped uninvited into the conversation. “Give it a try. What do you have to lose?”

“You, stay out of this!” Chanté jabbed her finger in the center of Edie's breastbone. “What were you thinking tricking us to come to a place like this?”

“We,” Edie said as she dragged her groaning husband into the argument, “are trying to help you, since both of you are too proud and stubborn to do the right thing. I mean, really! Duct taping the house, cutting up expensive cars and tampering with food. Does any of that sound like what two rational, mature adults do to resolve conflict?”

“Don't forget what he did to my shoes,” Chanté added, crossing her arms with a great huff.

Edie gave her friend an annoyed look as she slid her hands onto her hips. “Look, Seth and I know you two are a little on the neurotic side. We're your friends. We accept that. We also know you two still love each other.”

Chanté lowered her eyes and then stole a side-glance at Matthew. His deep onyx gaze softened as it roamed her face. “A marriage needs more than love.”

“Yes, it needs communication and hard work,” Edie answered. “Somehow in your crazy quest to always be right, you've forgotten how to connect. You've forgotten how to touch each other.”

“Hey, I've tried to connect with her.”

“When? In between getting drunk and passing out?”

“I knew that wasn't a dream!”

“No, it was a nightmare.”

“Okay. Okay,” Edie snapped. “The bottom line is that you guys need help.”

The group fell silent.

Finally, Matthew cleared his throat. “I'm willing to give it a try, if you are.”

Chanté looked up again, this time her eyes were glossed with unshed tears. “I…guess…we could give it a try.”

“Yes!” Edie jerked her arm back as if her favorite football team had scored a touchdown.

Dr. Gardner cleared her throat and everyone turned toward her with guilty smiles for having forgotten she stood behind them.

“Uh, yes. About that program?” Matthew asked again with a widening smile.

Dr. Gardner clasped her hands together and rocked excitedly on the balls of her small feet. “Our Sexuality and Liberation program gives our couples the framework and tools for lovemaking.”

“Tools?” Seth asked, and then grinned at his wife. “I'm already liking the sound of this.”

Edie smacked him on the arm. “Behave.”

“I believe that great sex is a rarity even for couples who are in love. I'm interested in making it a repeatable reality.”

“Now I like the sound of that,” Chanté said.

Edie turned around and gave her girl a high-five.

Seth frowned and curled his bottom lip. “How come she didn't get smacked?”

His wife playfully smacked his arm again. “Don't worry about it.”

“Since you'll be staying,” Dr. Gardner chuckled, “how about I show you to your private lodges?” She winked.

Seth and Edie took the lead, linking their arms together.

Chanté and Matthew followed, moving like shy teenagers out on their first date.

The Tree of Life Resort was nestled comfortably in the Sandia Mountains, halfway between Santa Fe and Albuquerque. Walking down the long, curvy multicolored stone walkway, everyone had a breathtaking view of the dusty rose and lavender skyline.

The stunning desert landscape easily transported Chanté back to her Texas days. She nearly laughed at the thought. When had she started thinking of those days as simple?

She looked over at Matthew. At least when they had first gotten together, it had been simple. Hadn't it? Shaking her head, she concluded that she didn't know anymore.

“Here we are, Mr. and Mrs. Valentine.” Gardner slid a card key into a door lock. “I trust you'll find everything to your satisfaction.”

Chanté drew a deep breath and fluttered a smile as she crossed the threshold. The southwestern decor continued in their grand lodge. Handsome leather chairs, handwoven coil baskets and even Native American patchwork quilts gave the room an authenticity, but it was the giant stone fireplace that quickened her heart and tickled her imagination.

“Very nice,” she said, setting her purse on what appeared to be a hand-carved wooden table.

Matthew nodded his agreement and slid his hands into his pants' pockets.

Dr. Gardner beamed and clasped her hands to her chest. “Great! You'll find everything you need in the folders laid out on your bed. It has your workshop overviews, schedules and instructions. You'll have one class tonight before dinner and then there's a small mixer.”

“Great. We get to meet the other couples,” Matthew said. “So much for privacy.”

“Are you saying you want to leave?” Chanté asked, afraid he was having second thoughts.

“No. No. That's not what I meant…unless—you want to leave.”

“No. I mean, we're already here.”

Edie rolled her eyes. “Let's leave these two alone, Dr. Gardner. They can go at it for hours. Trust me.” She addressed her friends. “See you guys at dinner?”

“Sure. Meet you there,” Matthew answered with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and then waited patiently for the group to exit.

When the door finally clicked close, he dropped his artificial smile and deflated his shoulders.

“Quite an interesting turn of events,” Chanté commented with forced amusement.

“I'd say.” Matthew nodded and then failed to think of anything else to add.

Chanté turned and exaggerated her interest in the room's decor. However, her husband's gaze grew heavier on her back while the silence became deafening. Was he expecting her to say something—do something?

“Do you think this will work?” he finally asked when she completed her circle around the living room.

She shrugged. “I don't see why not, it's a fairly large place.”

“No. You know that's not what I meant.”

He stepped forward and crowded her personal space, but she stepped back when that unfamiliar cologne tickled her nose. “I don't know. In the past six months we've said a lot…we did a lot to hurt each other.”

Matthew lowered his gaze and grudgingly nodded. “But it doesn't mean that I stopped loving you,” he added tenderly. At her soft gasp, he chanced another look up and watched her beautiful amber eyes fill with tears.

“I still love you, too,” she responded in a trembling whisper and closed her eyes. “Do you know how long it's been since we've said those words to each other?”

While his mind tumbled over recent months, Matthew's face heated with shame and embarrassment for failing to do the number one thing he advised the world to do: always tell the people in your life how much you love and appreciate them.

“I'm sorry,” he said, taking another step forward.

Chanté blinked. “What?”

“I said I'm sorry. I've been an incredible asshole and you deserve better.”

Something certainly had to be wrong with her hearing. Dr. Matthew Valentine had never apologized for anything—not that she should be keeping some sort of scorecard, but it just never happened.

Her husband frowned at her. “Did I say something wrong?”

She shook her head as a few tears skipped down her cheeks. “No. In fact, you said everything just right.”

Matthew smiled and erased the remaining distance between them. Their gazes remained locked as his hand cupped her chin and tilted up her lips.

Butterflies emerged from their cocoons and began batting their new wings in the pit of Chanté's stomach. She even held her breath in anticipation as Matthew's head slowly descended. When their lips finally touched, a dam of emotions broke within her soul and tears streamed down her face.

Matthew groaned and pulled her tighter. Despite a surge of urgency and testosterone, he took his time exploring her mouth and dancing with her tongue. What was undoubtedly his millionth kiss from her, this one had every bit of sweetness as their first.

Matthew allowed hope to bloom in his heart. He didn't know what to expect in the next four days, but he vowed to do whatever it took to win his wife's heart back.

Chanté didn't know whether this place could save their marriage but, at least, they were off to one hell of a start.

 

Outside the Valentines' lodge, Edie and Seth stood with their ears pressed against the door.

“I can't hear anything,” Seth complained.

“I think they're kissing,” Edie whispered with a widening smile.

“You're kidding me.” He pressed his ear to another spot on the door. “I can't believe it,” Seth whispered back in genuine amazement. “They're not trying to kill each other.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” Edie moved away from the door and pulled her husband along. “You know if this all works out according to plan, we should write a book.”

“Yeah. We can name it:
Lie, Sneak and Trick Your Friends to a Happier Marriage
.”

“Catchy. I like it.”

Seth rolled his eyes.

C
hanté held Matthew's hand firmly as they entered the first workshop of their Sexuality and Liberation program. Edie and Seth were already there, mixing and mingling with the group as if they did this sort of thing every day.

Given the Valentines' celebrity status, most of the participating couples made the assumption that Chanté and Matthew were teaching the course. When they learned the celebrity duo were actually participants, everyone's excitement level increased.

“This experience is going to change your life,” Wilfred, a seventy-something gentleman with a George Hamilton tan and a whistling ear aide confided. “This is me and Mable's ninth time here at The Tree of Life Resort,” he said, nodding his head vigorously. “Each time we come, we learn something new. Ain't that right, Mable bear?”

Mable, a very tall, Bea Arthur look-alike nodded and expanded her crimson-red lipstick smile. “That's right, Willicums.”

“The last time we came, we learned the principles of the Kama Sutra. Now that was fun!”

Matthew and Chanté shared an amused glance before another couple introduced themselves.

“Hello, Dr. Valentine.” Jeff, according to his name tag, looking considerably younger than eighteen, pumped his hand. “My wife and I love your show.” His wife, though attractive, was three times the boy's age. However, they were clearly crazy about each other.

“I keep tellin' her that age ain't nothin' but a number. Ain't that right, Dr.V?” Jeff went on about his and his wife's winter/spring relationship.

“As long as everyone's legal,” Matthew agreed good-naturedly.

Chanté muffled a laugh behind her hand as she turned away and then introduced herself to another couple. In total, there were fifteen couples. Some were newbies and some were veterans. Chanté found that the other couples attended the workshops as a way to either spice up their love life or because they were just plain curious.

“Good evening, everyone,” a bald Asian man said upon entering the room. “Please take your seats, so we can get started.”

The seats were actually large, multicolored velvet pillows spread in a big circle. Matthew followed everyone's lead by sitting more toward the back of the pillow and then spreading his legs so that Chanté could sit in the vee he formed.

The only couple that alternated from this pose was Wilfred and Mable—mainly because Mable was a whole foot taller than her husband.

Their instructor smiled as he took his place in the center of the circle. “Good evening,” he said again. “My name is Dr. Dae Kim. I'm happy to meet each of you as you prepare to embark on a wonderful journey. With our simple techniques you will be transformed. In the next four days, you will learn the ancient art of lovemaking. You will learn how to generate powerful surges of sexual energy.”

Mable let out a loud “whoop” and the group crackled in amusement.

Dr. Kim smiled at the elderly couple. “Ah, Mable and Wilfred. Welcome back.”

A beaming Wilfred gave the instructor a high thumbs-up. “Wouldn't have missed it for the world!”

Chanté was enchanted by the loving couple. Despite the height difference, they appeared comfortable in their skins and with each other.

“The most important thing I want you to go away with tonight,” Dr. Kim continued, “is how through some simple exercises and rituals, sex can be used to heal and free the mind, body and soul. Each one of you can achieve a state of bliss. But first, you must identify past hurts whether they are real or imagined.”

Chanté and Matthew shifted in their seats.

“The reason it's important to identify these various hurts, rejections or abuses is because it's the only way to release the emotions attached to them. Once you do that, you then replace those hurts with positive experiences and emotions.”

Dr. Kim's words floated inside Chanté's head long after class and dinner. Could she and Matthew truly get past all the temper tantrums and arguments in the past year? Four days hardly seemed like enough time.

The men were excused from the evening mixer so they could get started on their homework. Before Matthew left, Chanté did her best to wheedle clues as to what their mysterious homework entailed.

“If I tell you, then it would ruin the surprise,” Matthew chuckled and then kissed the tip of her nose before he left the dining room.

“Stop obsessing,” Edie said after reading her friend's pensive expression.

“I wasn't,” Chanté lied with a forced shrug of indifference. However, she took one look at her friend's dubious expression and broke out into a wide grin. “This is sort of exciting,” she confessed.

“So you forgive me for tricking you?”

Chanté tilted her head high and pretended to mull the question over.

Edie popped her lightly on the shoulder. “C'mon. You two were being stubborn and you know it.”

“All right. All right.” Chanté swung her arm around her friend's shoulder. “Thank you for caring so much.”

“Don't mention it,” Edie said, waving off the praise. “I'm sure you would have done the same thing for me.”

“If you say so.”

The women continued to mill excitedly around the plush room. The Tree of Life staffers didn't miss a trick with surrounding them with various exotic flowers, filling the trays with sinfully rich chocolates and playing soft classical music.

Being that it was ladies' night, waiters who looked like models roamed about the room in scantily-clad genie outfits that boldly and proudly displayed their bulging muscles. Once, Chanté caught sight of seventy-something Mable slipping a twenty-dollar bill in the lining of a young man's waistband and then giggling like a young schoolgirl.

“You think we'll be like that when we get older?” Edie inquired.

“God, I hope so.”

At precisely nine o'clock, Dr. Gardner entered the room, tinkling a small, gold bell. “It's time ladies,” she sang merrily. “Each of your husbands or partners has prepared a special evening for you. Tonight, you will be the center of attention. As you learned in class, the pathway to the perfect state of bliss is finding the perfect balance. To give and receive. Traditionally women are givers—the nurturers. And men—well, you know where I'm going with this.”

The women laughed.

“Tonight. Your only role is to be the receiver. Abandon your natural instincts. Let your partner pour everything they have into you. Take it all in. Give your body freedom to move in the way that it wants. Lose control. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes,” the women thundered.

“Good.” Dr. Gardner glanced around at the smiling women. “Enjoy your evening.” She jingled the bell again.

Before Chanté could set down her flute of champagne, she had to jump out of the way as the women took off like a pack of thoroughbreds at the Kentucky Derby—Edie included. Not that she wasn't equally excited as the others, she was. It was just that she was more nervous than anything.

Which was silly, wasn't it?

Shrugging the question off, she strolled back to her private lodge with an arrhythmic heartbeat and trembling legs. At the door, she fidgeted, drew several deep breaths and finally mustered up the courage to knock.

Immediately, the door flew open and Matthew stood, looking devilishly handsome in a loose, black silk robe. “I was afraid you got lost,” he said.

Chanté's jaw slackened at the sight of her husband's broad, chocolate chest and a tease of his rippling six-pack.

He smiled at her reaction and stepped farther back. “Please, come in, my beloved.” He gestured with a wide sweeping hand. “I've been expecting you.”

Beloved. Chanté tingled from the word as she crossed the threshold. Immediately, a wondrous blend of jasmine and vanilla wafted under her nose and brought a smile to her lips.

Matthew closed the door and then quickly appeared at her side. “May I take your purse and shoes for you?”

Fighting not to laugh, she handed him her purse and started to kick off her shoes when he stopped her.

“No, no. Let me do that for you.”

He knelt before her and Chanté's brows shot up in surprise, and then relaxed in delight when he gently lifted one leg at a time to slide off her pumps.

“You have very beautiful feet,” he said, looking up at her. “Would you like for me to massage them for you?”

Chanté couldn't stop grinning. “I'd love a massage.”

Matthew stood and put away her things. When he returned, Chanté gasped as he swept her up into his arms.

“You're taking your job a little seriously this evening.”

“I hope that doesn't displease you. I am at your service, devoted to your pleasure, my beloved.”

Chanté's toe tickled at that word again. “Why would I mind you being my love slave?”

“Ah, that's the spirit,” Matthew chuckled as he carried her to the bedroom.

Chanté gasped again at the beautiful sight of low-lit candles, crushed roses on the bed, champagne on ice by a small alcove and a lamp that projected stars across the ceiling.

“You've been busy.”

“I hope that means you like it.”

“I more than like it,” she said, catching his dark gaze. “I love it.”

Neither spoke as Matthew carried her to the small alcove and lowered her onto a bed made of plush, black velvet pillows. Next, he brought over a large basin of warm water.

“Would you like some champagne while I bathe your feet?” he asked.

“I would love some.”

As attentive as a maître d'at a posh restaurant, Matthew popped the cork to the champagne and then poured the overflowing bubbly into a thin flute. “For you, my beloved.”

She tingled again and accepted the champagne.

Matthew returned his attention to bathing her delicate feet. The feel of his strong hands cupping and massaging the soles had Chanté squirming against the pillows. “If you like, I've also prepared a bath for you.”

“This night keeps getting better and better.”

“That's the whole idea.”

Her smile widened. “In that case, I would love a bath.”

Once again, Chanté found herself swept up into Matthew's arms and this time carried into the adjoining bathroom. There, another army of scented candles awaited her and on top of the foam of white bubbles were more crushed rose petals.

Suddenly overwhelmed, Chanté felt tears burn the back of her eyes. It wasn't that her husband had never staged a romantic evening, it had just been so long since he had done so. Between their hectic schedules—his working during the day at the studio, her working at night at the radio station and their writing—such grand romantic gestures were lost in the shuffle.

“None of those,” Matthew said, catching her errant tear with the tips of his fingers. “I only want you to feel beautiful…and loved.”

“Mission accomplished.”

“But we've hardly gotten started. I have a whole evening plan dedicated to pleasuring you.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “May I unzip your dress?”

Unable to help herself, she leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss against his lips. “Yes, you may.”